Sam's brother
by KilianaFelagund
Summary: Dean and Jess weren't strangers when he showed up one night asking for Sam's help. A mystery, and a simple call. Jess and Dean met and Sam never knew. Now she has a big brother too. Preseries/Stanford era. Language (Hey, it's the Winchesters) The rest of the tags and disclaimers are inside. No slash. Alternate Ending continued in part 2: "Two Worlds - One Family" (Ch3 posted today)
1. The Beginning

Hey, so this is my latest. Yes it will continue. Please follow if you like it. Tag for Language, because hey its the Winchesters. Tag for Alcohol use. Tag for blood (see above reference of the Winchesters... :)

I do not own the Supernatural U'verse or the characters (sadly)

So I have had this story percolating in my brain for a while now... :) enjoy!

~Kiliana

* * *

The first time Jess heard _his_ name, Sam was drunk. Actually legitimately drunk. She had known him for three months and things certainly looked serious. Lola threw a party in their flat and invited basically every geek on campus and Sam had been dragged along by his roommate, Bradly. At some point that evening, someone had finally talked him into a game of beer-pong. He won impressively. By the time everyone had passed out all over the place – or gone home which applied to over seventy-five percent of the party because they were all nerds – Sam was still hanging on to consciousness and trying to talk Lola into letting him leave.

"I'm – um… I'ya m'fine…" he slurred _oh so _convincingly as he swayed on his feet.

"Like hell you are." Lola laughed pushing him down on the couch. "Sleep bean-stock, you can go home in the morning."

"Didin mean t'get – ham-mm-mmered." He apologized. "Never – ever – not me – I'm da sober un." His eyes were fluttering.

"Ha I have a feeling he really is a nerd, supposed he ever has gotten drunk before?" Lola nudged Jess where she stood hazily in the doorway.

"Yaaa… I think he has. He was pretty impressive at the whole beer-pong game." Jess was new to the whole psychology degree but she already fancied she could read people – fancied. "I have a feeling he knows how to focus through a buzz. That comes from experience, though, he is a bit of a light-weight." She giggled at herself, perhaps she was more buzzed then she knew.

She pushed away from the door and swiped a blanket to drop over his lanky body. "Hey, you're pretty cute, even when you're drunk, Sammy." She laughed.

His eyes cleared slightly and he heaved himself back up to glare at her. "Isss Sam. Jus' Sam. No one ge's ta call me – mmmm, da call me Sammy but Dean kay?" he slurred still glaring weakly at her. "Don' call me that." And then he passed out.

Jess shrugged it off and moved on, sure she didn't call him Sammy again, but she didn't quite realize just how important the name "Dean" was going to become to her. It didn't take her long to start to hate it. It took even longer before she realized she didn't have too.

* * *

So, what do you think? I don't have a beta, so its all my personal mistakes.

I was going to wait and post this later, but my faithful friend is threatening to "sue" me if I wait any longer to post another story. So here it is.

Please leave your thoughts. Review, review, review! It keeps the muse happy.

~Kiliana

* * *

Let me post a clip from one of the later chapters. enticement. :)

"_B-B-Booby. G-get t-to the h-hos-pital n-now." She drew in a deep breath. It didn't help much. "H-he's in a b-bad way." She numbly hung up the phone and discovered the nurse had left only to return a moment later with a new cup of coffee._

"_Have faith sweetheart." She purred. Jess almost wretched at the sound of Dean's voice in her head saying that name. "He is in the hands of the best."_

_Jess nodded willing herself to believe. The nurse was gone again. Funny how she couldn't seem to remember her going or coming once._

"_Sam." She murmured her mind focusing in that single point. "Gotta call Sam."_

(since this story is about Dean and Jess's relationship mainly... I'll leave you wondering for now)


	2. Who is Dean?

See epiloque for disclaimers and tags. SPN is not mine I regret to inform you (I know I just heart my heart break...)

I decided to post the first chapter (so you could have more to review on... :) please...)

~Kiliana

* * *

Chapter 1.

Sam paused just outside his apartment door and glanced around again. It had been almost two years since he had left the war that had shadowed his childhood, but old habits die hard and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. For the thousandth time that evening he wished for the solid presence of a gun against his back. The desire almost scared him with it ferocity after three years of peace. But the feeling of eyes on the back of his head – he wasn't paranoid – he knew things, things that hid in the dark, creatures of nightmares.

Dean. Dean would know what to do if he was here. He wouldn't just keep walking and pretending he wasn't alarmed by the feeling – of course he wouldn't because he's Dean and he is never alarmed of anything – not even the creepy lady who washes laundry on Saturday night crap TV. That was a horror Sam would never forget. Seriously, how was a six-year-old supposed to react when a sixty something woman started washing clothes to a horrible song – his horror had absolutely NOTHING to do with the fact that she slowly transformed into a clown as she was scrubbing away. He had never figured out what that commercial was advertising (neither had Dean…) Rather, Dean had rolled off the bed laughing, and Sam had fled to the bathtub, with a pillow and hadn't emerged the rest of the night.

Sam felt a smile tug at his mouth at that memory before snapping back to reality. He roughly shoved the thoughts of his estranged brother out of his head. He couldn't go there, if he did, he would go back. He couldn't allow himself to do that, not now – not ever.

The feeling of being watched only intensified as he slipped into the apartment. If he salted the border of the apartment that night, Jess didn't comment. If her hand felt the hard cold weapon crammed in the waistband of his jeans when she kissed him while baking, she didn't say. Sam was as skittish as a wild colt at times and she had learned early on that it would pass if she ignored it. Something about that fearsome weapon kept him calm. Her heart ached for his childhood she did not understand – something had ingrained the need for a loaded weapon, and she hated it.

There was a darkness in his eyes that night. It was the forlorn anguish, the deep cold longing, one that Jess had quickly learned to associate with the name "Dean." Who Dean was; she still hadn't the faintest clue – it wasn't like he was anyone special – after all Sam _only_ cried for him when he was sick – _only_ begged for forgiveness when he tossed at night tear sliding down his face.

Sometimes, when he thought she wasn't listening, she had heard him talking softly to the empty room. There was once that she had caught him petting a stray cat, she had surprised him.

_"I didn't know you liked cats, baby." "I don't really, Dean does." It was murmured softly into the cat's fur. "He liked to pretend he was tough, but he would always hide out with the mangly stay cat when he thought no one was watching. That damn thing loved him. It looked just like this one, we called it Raggedy Anne." _

She had asked then, when, who, where? But not another word had passed his lips for the rest of the evening. And then, just like now, there was that deep dark pain in his eyes threatening to bring him to his knees. But she had referred to the apartment complex's grey and orange stray as 'Raggedy Andy' from then on, it always brought a small smile to his lips.

"Hey Baby." She murmured wrapping her arms around his waist and tipping his head down to hers. "You wanna get take out or should we order pizza? I haven't made it to the store so we have nothing in the house."

Sam's eyes jumped rapidly to the salt lines around the door and back before he quickly shook his head. "Naw." He muttered and kissed her forehead. "I'm not hungry, let's just call it a night."

"Awe, I know you wanna eat cookies for dinner babe, but really." She teased. Sam cracked a smile at her words and kissed her lips.

"Mmmm, you taste like chocolate chips." He whispered. "But, no one is going out tonight."

Between those words and the gun in his jeans, Jess knew better then to argue. It was pointless. There was a cold hard edge to his voice that made her uneasy – he wasn't changing his mind.

The next afternoon, Jess had been shopping all day and her arms were about to tear off from the weight of the bag she was lugging up the stairs to their apartment. After a bit of juggling she managed to get the door open before dropping the bag in a heap on the floor no longer caring if anything broke. Her damn arm was about to break, who cares about a glass jar.

"Sam?"

There was no response.

"Hey babe?" then she saw the salt and quietly shut the door. A quick search of the living room revealed no Sam. She nudged the door to the bedroom open and her hand drifted to her mouth as she watched him. Lying on the bed, he was loosely clutching a gun in one hand. He was wearing a tattered Def Leppard t-shirt that she had only seen in conjunction with the haunted "Dean" eyes. He stared at her through half lidded eyes.

"Hey." He breathed.

"You ok?" she asked suddenly hurrying across the room and running her hands across his forehead.

"Ya." He laughed in the same monotone. "Can't shake the feeling that something is dreadfully wrong." He rolled his head away. "I have this terrible feeling that he might be dead somewhere or hurt and I would never know. Oh GOD Jess, I miss his," his voice which had started soft had risen to a sob and he wrapped his arms around himself protectively. Her heart leap into her throat as once again as unreasonable jealously swept through her. Almost as soon as it came she forced it away for Sam's sake and sank down beside him. Tears prickled at her own eyes as she watched a few slide free from his.

"Who?" She asked softly and soothingly as if she was talking to a skittish colt – which she felt like she probably actually was. She had a feeling she knew the answer to her question as he confirmed it with words.

"Dean." The soft words were almost too quiet to hear.

Jess felt her heart sink out of her throat and into the pit of her stomach, growing cold. "Who is Dean, Baby?" she asked, not for the first time ever. He had always brushed her off without answering in the past, but this time…

Sam rolled away from her, the gun in his hands shook slightly. "Dean's Dean."

"What?" she asked following him as he rolled away. "What does that mean?"

"I pushed him away. I walked out. I threw away the only thing that mattered and now, now – Oh God, Jess, what if he is hurt somewhere, I'd never know." Sam fell silent again only the hitching breaths betrayed his sorrow. Jess sat in dumb shock unable to say a word for fully five minutes. _What am I if Dean is the only thing that matters to him? What am I to him? _

Finally Jess stood up and left the room caving to jealousy on the living room couch. For a while she sat a shook in anger. What did it mean? Did he love her at all?

It didn't take long, though, before her take charge personality bullied its way back to the surface. well, bull-dog personality mixed with insatiable curiosity. In a move she had never tried before, Jess swept Sam's phone off the counter and thumbed the familiar lock pattern. Sam hadn't ever told her what it was, but he had never hidden it either.

A quick survey of the messages revealed no one named Dean. She scrolled all the way to the bottom of the contacts before she found one named "zzzz Dean." She almost smiled at that. The childishness of adding the "z's" so it would be at the very bottom was strangely endearing. She only hesitated for half of eternity before hitting the call button. Her breath caught in her throat as it rang:

Once.

Twice.

Three times and "Beep: Hey this is Dean." Drawled a breathtakingly smooth voice. "Leave your damn message. I'll call if I want. Beep." Jess's breath caught in her throat and her mouth went dry. _What the Hell was she doing? _"Um…" she started helplessly. "I have no idea who you are, I'm Jess." _Smooth Jess real smooth. Try a bit harder to sound like a jerk. _"I'm Sam's girlfriend and I am at the end of my wits. Something is wrong with him and all he is talking about is someone called Dean, so I called the only Dean in his contacts. Yeah, stupid right." _Good grief Jess, you sound like a moron. _"I was sorta hoping you could help. Um. Bye." She thumbed the end call and flung the phone onto the couch. "Jess, you sounded like a total idiot… 'I have no idea who you are.' That was a brilliant one liner!" she scoffed at the room before she was suddenly cut off by the generic ring of her own phone.

She retrieved it numbly as all of her nerves rushed back full force. Her hands were shaking so bad she almost couldn't answer the phone. "Hello?" she voice wavered terribly when she answered.

"Hi, Jess. I'm Dean. How's my baby brother doing?"

"Baby brother?" she repeated, blinked, and stared dumbly at the wall. The silence on the other end was weirding her out.

"Never talks about me, does he." If she wasn't so attuned to Sam's voice when he was trying to hide his disappointment, she might have missed the ache in this stranger's voice.

"Oh no, he talks about you all the time, he just never told me who you were." She swiftly replied recovering her wits. "So, he isn't doing very well."

"Define "well," or in this case "not so well."

"Seriously, how does anyone talk to you without getting distracted?" she muttered trying to get used to his easy commanding drawl that put her at ease so fast it was almost unbelievable.

"Oh sweetheart, I really don't know. Do you still have Sam's phone?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Do you know how to erase the last call from the history?"

"You mean, erase the fact that I called you?" Jess clarified, it was a strange request, but given the nature of his and Sam's relationship – or lack thereof – she was willing to do as he was asking. "Done."

"Thanks, now answer my first question; define "not doing well."

"Kay," Jess ran a hand through her hair quickly and plunged in. "He sometimes comes home in a dark mood, pours salt all over the place, and wears a gun. But he is always better the next morning. But this started yesterday afternoon, when he came back and ran the salt line, and it is evening, and he is still curled up with a gun. The salt lines are still everywhere despite my having swept them up this morning, and he is desperate, muttering about how "Dean, could be hurt somewhere" and he would never know."

There was a long pause on the other end while Jess slowly chewed her bottom lip to shreds.

"Damn it." He finally muttered. "Is he running a fever?"

"Yes but not bad."

"How bad is not bad?"

"I didn't use a thermometer but it feels like maybe a hundred." She replied suddenly nervous. This was Sam's brother, she really wanted to make a good impression. He was undoubtedly judging her. Up until now she probably had given him the impression of a nervous child. She gnawed on her lip a little longer.

"Take pity on your lip, sweetheart." His voice drawled. Her jaw went slack and she almost dropped the phone.

"How did you-"

"Sam sounds stressed." He effortlessly deflected her obvious question. "He used to panic when he was stressed. I would bet he hasn't been eating. Make him a dish of that horrible box mac and cheese. He will swear up and down that he hates that stuff, but he actually likes it and its fast energy. Make sure he eats dinner too, force feed him if you have to. And, Jess, don't sweep up the salt until he is out of this slump. It makes him feel safe, so leave it. Same with the gun. Leave it until he puts it away. You are not in any danger, not unless he is raving mad and delirious, which he isn't. Save my number to your phone. Don't you _ever_ call me on his again." Jess frowned, she hadn't missed the slight waver in his voice when he said that.

"Thanks Dean, I was worried he was really sick, his dark moods never last this long, and they are still scary and completely foreign to me."

"Huh, whatever. Call me if you need help." Dean tacked on distractedly and the line went dead.

Strange. _Don't ever call me on his again. He thought it was his brother calling him, and to know it was not, that's hard. Only Sam gets to call me from Sam's phone. He night be hurt and I'd never know. I miss him. Damn it. How's my baby brother. Baby brother. Brother, brothers. _Jess's mind was fluttering as it tried to process new information. _They miss each other but are too stubborn to admit it? Maybe they hurt each other and don't think the other will forgive them. Maybe something happened. My baby brother. Oh God, Jess, I miss him._

Save new contact? – Yes – name: Mac Roni

Jess giggled madly as she hit save. Mac Roni, for the suggested food. Sam would never suspect who that was.

Still in high spirits and thoroughly confused by the new found existence of the brother, Jess slipped out to swing by the neighborhood market and grab a stash of easy box mac.

It all went into the cupboard except one box which went into a pot. It looked really gross to her "nutrition classes" side. But when she sat down beside the lethargic boyfriend he eyed her suspiciously.

"Jess, what the hell? This is gross. You never buy instant anything." He whined halfheartedly.

"Well, it was on sale, and I figured it makes a good snack. You haven't eaten anything all day so I made some, but if you don't want it I'll throw it out." She replied standing up and moving towards the door.

"Wait, I am kinda hungry, I'll give it a try." Sam called out weakly sitting up and dropping the gun on the comforter. He took a bite and grimaced slightly although she could clearly see the smile threatening ruin the act.

"You like nasty food you bad boy." She laughed. Sam huffed but finished the bowl.

"It's funny that you happened to buy this stuff. This is like the last thing I would ever have thought you would buy. Seems more like something my br- um, I mean, it seems like it would be way too unhealthy." He ended lamely sticking his nose in the bowl like he might possibly be able to breathe the food in instead of eating it.

"Ya, well sue me lawyer-to-be. I was out of quick meal ideas and, thinking about the trip the girls want to take, and the fact that you don't cook, I thought I would give it a try before you starve yourselves for three days next month." Jess almost doubled over laughing she was so proud of herself, she was a lot better at the "make-up-excuses-on-the-fly" game then she thought.

Sam looked back up and smiled slightly. "Thanks." He muttered and rolled out of bed. The gun took up residence in the back of his pants, like usual, and the salt lines stayed. But he was conversational in the kitchen for a while before going to study on the couch. The darkness in his face slowly faded until it was but a memory.

"Thanks Mac." Jess giggled in the kitchen as she started dinner.

* * *

So, thoughts?

stick around. I have several more chapters written and will be posting them soon. They get more and more fun as Jess and Dean get to know each other better.

~Kiliana


	3. Getting to know you

**Hey again my dear readers! sorry, I decided to rewrite part of the chapter so it took a bit longer to post then I planned. Anyway. Here you go.**

**As I already said, supernatural is not mine. I am just borrowing it for fun. ;) **

**Enjoy**

**~Kiliana**

* * *

That was certainly not the last time Jess called poor Mac Roni. She called him once a month at least. It was kinda nice to have extended family who understood Sam better than she did – not that she would admit that. Plus, he intrigued her, so far she couldn't understand what it was about him that caused Sam to ignore his existence. Although he hadn't admitted as much, she was pretty sure Dean put up with her calls to keep tabs on his brother.

Seriously, it was screwing with her head. If she even suggested bringing up the topic of Dean around Sam, he walked away or changed the subject so fast it made her head spin. In contrast, Dean seemed almost hungry for information of his brother's latest antics. Sam pushed away, Dean held on – and they both were in pain at the separation that only one of them was forcing – scrap that, Dean hadn't exactly called either and, well, the road goes both ways. But then, he was respecting Sam's desires – at least the ones that Sam expressed. Yep. It messed with her head big time.

But, it didn't stop her from calling. If anything, she couldn't get her mind off of the mysterious brother. Sometimes when Sam was gone, she would sit on the couch and bounce the phone in her hand wondering if Dean would be annoyed if she called. She really did _try _not to call him too often, she didn't want him to stop calling back. Once a month might be a little generous, in reality is was probably every third week. As she expected, he didn't always call her back.

After a while, it was almost therapeutic, she would call, the phone would ring, she would talk about Sam and then would vent about the latest annoyance, recent stupid trends; anything that bothered her that she couldn't tell her friends – as if she could tell Dean for some reason. Most of the times he called her back:

"Hey Dean, Jess, call me if you get a chance. Sam is really worried, but he won't call you. He thinks you might be hurt and it is eating him up with worry. So if you are not hurt, I might be able to relieve his fears without having any of my own. I know. Silly right? But call anyway if you get the chance."

It was three days before Mac called her back. Needless to say, she had started to wonder if Sam's fears were actually real.

"Dean!" she almost shouted at the phone.

"Hey." He grunted, the usual disarming smoothness completely lacking.

"Hey, are you alright?" her voice unconsciously softened to the familiar soothing purr she used so often with Sam.

"I'm fine." He growled.

"Bull." Jess retorted. Like, seriously. Who thinks they can possibly get away with saying that? It's like blaring a neon sign that reads "I'M SO NOT FINE!" especially when said with that voice tone.

"I could hang up." He retorted back darkly. Jess rolled her eyes.

"That wouldn't change the fact that I think that is bull."

There was a pause punctuated by a snort before he continued. "Sam's lucky."

"Thanks." Jess laughed, maybe he wasn't hurt too bad. "So how are you really?"

"I'm going to be fine." Long pause. "I've been better." She tapped her foot impatiently and could almost hear his roll his eyes at her through the phone. "I had an accident but I'm on the mend." He snapped.

"See, that I believe." She teased lightly.

"Ya whatever. How's Sam?" Always Sam. The familiar surge of jealously mixed with regret surged through her. Jealousy that Sam needed Dean and Dean needed Sam. Jealousy that none of her own family worried about her like that. Jealousy that she couldn't talk to him without talking about Sam. And regret that they wouldn't talk to each other.

"He'll be fine. He is stressed. There are a lot of tests coming up, and he has been eating a ton of that crap and cheese, but he'll be find when the tests are past."

"You said he was worried I was hurt?"

"Yeah, he woke one night frantic. Kept saying something about you getting hurt."

"Hum. Weird."

"Yeah, but you get hurt, right?"

"Take care Jess."

"Wait, Dean! De-" Jess snapped the phone shut and stared at it for a long time. "Yeah, you too Dean." She would have been annoyed if she wasn't so darn fond of him already.

* * *

"Hey, s'Jess again. Obviously. I think you have caller ID and screen your calls. I bet I'm right. I bet your just waiting until I finish the message, then you're going to listen to it and decide if you should call me back. Brat. But hey, Sam's at class and I figured I might fill you in on how he is doing if you wanted to chat. Yeah, okay you probably saw right through that. I'm lonely. There I said it. Happy now? And no I am not going to call my friends because most of them are in class too. So I'm just sitting her, working on homework – um calling you actually – and thought it was time for a break. So, don't ignore me."

Her phone rang a minute later.

"Dean."

"Jess."

"I was so right." She pumped her hand in the air.

"I don't always do it." He actually sounded just like Sam when he whined – or pretended to.

"Ha, no you just do it when Jess Moore calls, and probably everyone else, minus one or two people. I don't think you ever pick up for me."

"Meh, I know you'll leave a message. So, update? How's my brother?"

"Keeping on top of his school. He has some big tests coming up."

"You do realize that is the only thing he ever has coming up… geek"

"Oh, true. I think I say that every time you call."

Dean graced her with a snort. "How are you doing? Do you have a new job yet?"

"What? How the hell do you know I am looking for a job?"

"Um," With a stretch of the imagination, he almost sounded apologetic, "I keep tabs on you both. I mean I simply heard that you were out of a job. A friend drove past Stanford last week and checked in on you both. He overheard you tell Sam you had lost your job. I swear that's it."

"A friend huh." Jess sounded skeptical, something about Dean already knowing about her life without her telling him was slightly unsettling. What kind of person was he..?

"His names Caleb if it makes a difference," This time, no stretch of the imagination could make him sound apologetic. "…but don't tell Sam. You were at a park bench by a tree and he was parked on the other side of the tree. He really didn't mean to get that close, I just asked him to tell me how you both looked and if you looked fed and happy. That's all."

Jess laughed, she probably shouldn't have, but it was Dean, and well, she trusted him. "Ok I believe you. I don't know why. Seriously you could be a serial killer for all I know."

Dean laughed amused by the similarity of his job to serial killing but he didn't say that out loud. "Well I promise, no sneaking in the house, that one is completely forbidden."

"How many spies do you have in your pay?" Jess quipped honestly curiously.

Dean was silent for a minute. Jess imagined him counting slowly on his fingers, she made it to forty before he replied. "Three." Dean muttered. Jess almost laughed in relief and amusement at the honest embarrassment in his voice. At the obvious laughter, he vehemently defended his actions. "Hey, Sam's my _only_ brother and I have to keep him safe, and, well, for all intents and purposes, you are an extension of Sam now, so I keep my eye on you too."

Something in her chest tightened at the inclusion of her into his family. She swallowed the lump before replying in the most Dean appropriate manner. "You are really creepy Dean Winchester, you know that?"

"I've been told." He snarked, obviously relieved to have gotten away from the uncomfortable moment.

There was a click at the front door and Jess jumped. "Shit. Sam's home early, I wonder if his class was cancelled. I better go before he asks who I am talking too, take care of yourself."

"You betcha." He replied carelessly.

"I seriously doubt it stocker dude, you better be in one piece next time I call." A careful level of humor was glazing her dead serious words.

"Whatever. Take care of my brother Jess."

"Always do." Click. Tossed the phone in the couch just before Sam entered the room. Damn, Sam's brother was weird.

* * *

Jess waited a full month before calling Mac again. She felt bad, truly terrible. Somewhere deep down she hoped his spies had already figured out her predicament and told him, but, still…

Dean, it's Jess. Obviously." She nervously tapped her fingers on the table. "I hate to do this. I shouldn't've called. So… here's the deal. See, Sam's about to drop classes so he can get a part time job. The part time I picked up just isn't cutting it for my tuition right now. And well, I really don't want him to drop any classes, he'll lose his ride, and I can't drop anymore and maintain my scholarship, which would make the tuition higher – counterproductive. So… I was wondering if you know anyone who could help us out so I can pay for my next year of tuition. He is too prideful to ask for help, so am I usually. I can't ask my mom, she is still caring for my little sisters, the others are in school or married and barely surviving. And I can't call my dad, I mean, hell, I am going to be a social worker for a reason. I just – I don't know what to do! Call please." She was in tears when she hung up the phone.

It was two days before her phone rang. She wandered listlessly around from class to work and back home. Even Sam was in a funk. When her phone lit up with Mac's name, she almost fainted with relief. Somewhere along the way, she decided Dean had all the answers, she wasn't sure when that happened.

"Hey Jess, I got your message and you tuition has been paid up for a while so just make up a good story and tell Sam not to drop any classes." He said in way of greeting.

"Oh thank God. Even just one semester could get us back up on top of the water. What am I going to tell him?" Jess looked numbly at the computer as she drew up the page where she could see what was due. Her hands were literally shaking. Her school plan was set up so the entire semester was laid out but she could pay for it semester by semester.

"Um just tell him that some random homeless dude handed you a wad of cash and you went and paid-"

"Oh my God, Dean." Jess gasped and broke down in sobs clutching at the table for support.

"Um, it's no big deal Jess." Dean mumbled self-consciously.

"No big – DEAN!" Jess blubbered. "You paid ever single damn cent I owe to the end of my degree! Thank you so-" Click. Jess sat and gasped at the phone for a few moments her tears completely forgotten "You did NOT just hang up on me in the middle of me thanking you, DUDE! You did. You so did! What the Hell!"

Redial. The phone rang, rang, rang and went to voicemail – big surprise. She rolled her teary eyes.

"Hey I KNOW you are looking at the phone right now. Seriously. I CAN'T believe you hung up on me. I guess this will have to do. Dean, I don't know how to say thank you. I can't believe that you paid my entire loan, but thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Call me back and next time, pick up the damn phone!"

Her phone didn't ring, until she was walking away from ten minutes later.

"Dean?"

"You done bawling yet? Um, no chick-flick moments okay?" his voice was an interesting mix of indignant and grateful.

"It that you saying you don't know how to react when someone thanks you." She snapped.

"Probably, hell I don't know."

"Well, fine but thanks." She answered her voice gentling at the end.

"I did it for Sam you know." He muttered.

Jess shakily laughed at that, jealous and fond simultaneously, "Yeah, I know. Because I am an extension of Sam. I love you Dean."

"Wow. What the Hell did I just say?" there was a crash and muffled curse and she swore he just reeled into something.

"Heeh, I'm a girl. Live with it." She retorted after listening to him grunt around and presumably pick back up the phone.

"Okay, I gotta go, in a bit of a rush." He said rather unconvincingly.

"Yeah right. Hey, I still don't know what to say to Sam about the tuition."

"Just have him call the loan company, I fed them a wonderful alibi. You wrote a beautiful and moving essay to your senator asking for financial aid, and it moved him so much he decided to help you and your boyfriend reach your goals of being a social worker and a lawyer. It was a very beautiful essay Jess, you really should have kept a copy."

Jess laughed at him suddenly picturing him as a con-artist – completely with the Italian beret. "And what if he calls and they tell him it was actually you."

"Oh I am way better than that Jess, they certainly think it was the senator." Yep definitely the beret and possibly a mustache, she giggled at her own imagination.

"Thanks, you silly boy."

"Um, Jess, I wasn't kidding about being on a tight schedule. I do have to go."

"Ok, listen Dean, take care of yourself."

The smile in his voice was audible, "You too Sweetheart. And take care of my brother."

"Always do." Jess smiled at the computer as she closed the phone. Good lord she owed that man so much. But, really, he was SO weird!

* * *

**Haha! okay, I had fun with that. **

**Author note: Dean likes Jess as Sam's girl friend, he thinks of her as a little sister in a way, so he is less gruff and more lenient with her about the whole no display of emotion. Not that he lets her get away with "chick-flicks" but he doesn't always react, instead letting her be a girl. Jess is normally pretty emotional and he knows that. **

**Let me know that you think. Share the love. Feed the muse. Review. Thanks ;)**

**~Kiliana **


	4. Halloween

**Author's note: because today is Halloween, I wrote a quick special, it took me a couple hours but it was fun. This fits into my story during the last chapter. Jess calls Dean often and I obviously haven't written them all. So this fits in there.**

**I sorta thought it would be funny to write a Halloween chapter, and have Dean share a memory with Jess – one that Sam would never tell her. So here it is. Sorry if it is kinda rough. Once again I don't have a beta. So thanks for following me. Seriously you guys make my muse here SO happy.**

**I will update the story soon but here is a quick salute to the holiday. Have fun today guys!**

**Disclaimer: No I do not own Supernatural.**

**~Kiliana**

* * *

Jess was all dressed up for Halloween, par usual, Sam was being a spoilsport. "I hate Halloween." He grumbled as he drug himself sea-anemone on land style through the house. Jess giggled at him as he slithered into the living room. Although on two feet he certainly looked like he was sliding.

"Who hates Halloween silly?" she laughed and punched his arm lightly.

"Me." He retorted without any heat.

"So you said." She replied.

Sam grumbled something unintelligible and she thwacked him again. "Behave. You can go as a mad-scientist and wear what you have on if you insist, but the party is in three hours and you are going with me." She flashed her best puppy dog eyes at him – they weren't very affective her friends said. However, Sam wasn't her friends, and the plea worked on him.

"Fine. I'll go as Sam during finals week." He grinned.

Jess rolled her eyes. "And what? Mess your hair up and leave a shoe behind?"

"Hey, I am very organized even during finals." He replied with a mock hurt tone to his voice.

"Yeah, that's the problem. Go as "How Sam will never look, ever… ever, ever, ever… during finals week. People would probably find it hysterical because it is you." Jess grabbed her phone and a light jacket. "So, be ready when I get back. Diana is having a quick come put your costume on party, and although I am dressed, I thought I would drop in."

"Sure." Sam smiled congenially at her, gave her a kiss and pushed her towards the door.

Once outside Jess couldn't help but laugh in complete merriment.

Halloween was her favorite day of the year. When else did you ever get to dress up and eat a shit-load of candy. She traipsed along to the dorms and up to the third floor. Pausing at the door she slowly drew out her phone. It only took a moment of hesitation before she hit her speed-dial.

Once. Twice. Three times and beep.

She grinned. Of course. It's not like he would ever actually answer the phone.

"Hellooo. S'me duh. As if you don't already know that. Anyway, Happy Halloween. Your brother is being a jerk about it and doesn't want to dress up. But I may have forced him too." She giggled and twirled her hair mindlessly between her fingers. "So I figured I would just call you and say hi. Take care. Call me back if you can." She snapped the phone shut and opened the door.

"Jess!" Nora called from the other side of the room.

"Hey girl, cute outfit!" Diana laughed from the kitchen.

Jess grinned and settled into the crowd.

The noise and fun was so intense she almost didn't feel her pocket buzz. Her heart skipped. Pulling it out confirmed her suspicions. She flipped it open and stepped towards the door. "Hey Nora, tell Diane I stepped out for a moment. My cousin called, I'll be back in." she yelled behind her before closing the door and lifting the phone to her ear. "Dean!"

"Hey, you at a party?" he asked. He sounded weary, broken even. The elation that had so recently filled her chest turned into cold worry.

"No, no. Are you alright? And don't give me any crap 'cause you sound like a zombie." She asked letting her voice sharpen into what she hoped sounded like a command.

"Hey, it's Halloween." He offered lamely.

"Hardy Har Har!" she retorted. "You're so funny Dean."

"I know, it's not my fault I'm the only one in my family to have inherited it."

"Oh ouch. I think you're the only one who inherited bad jokes."

"Do you even know Sam?" Dean choked out stifling a cough with a laugh and squeaking at the end.

"Good point." Jess did laugh at that. "So, are you going to live?"

"Yeah." He answered sounding more tired by the moment.

"I really wish I knew what you do that gets you hurt all the time and left Sam with more scars than a patch-work quilt." She growled rhetorically. Like they would ever actually answer the question.

"You know, the usual." Dean's voice had taken on the sly I'm-more-trouble-than-I-am-worth quality as he drawled into her ear, "Went to a bar, picked up a hot chick, got mauled."

"Wow! Stop right there Winchester." Jess laughed. "TMI dude!"

"Seriously." He ended in the same voice.

"Whatever silly. So are you doing anything this evening or do you hate Halloween as much as your brother?"

"Are you kidding? I love Halloween! Sam and me, we would live it up on Halloween! Haunted houses and everything. We had a running competition and kept a tally even, the goal was to scare the people who were trying to scare you. So we would hang out in the house and whenever they would scare someone else, we would jump them. It was awesome!"

Dean's voice sounded more alive than usual as he retold the story with great gusto. Jess was captivated. This was something completely foreign to her. Not only was this a story about Sam's mysterious childhood, but she honestly couldn't imagine him being a small scrawny thing and scaring the scarers.

Dean chuckled lost in the memory for a moment. "We were really good at it too. As long as there were no clowns." He added fondly. "One year we talked our dad into letting us waste a little money on make-up and we went the whole nine yards. I painted him up to look like a bloody-zombie-axe-murderer-turned-rabid-ghost and I painted my own face and arms too look like I had pussy wounds and was bleeding from multiple gashes in my face, neck, and arms, and then I matted my hair with fake blood. I'm pretty sure I have a fake sword 'impaled' in my chest."

"Gross." Jess laughed still having trouble picturing them. She was certainly not having any trouble picturing the make-up job, just the boys beneath.

"Yeah, Sam was thirteen that year and had just shot up to five-foot-six. It was awesome, best Halloween ever because I am pretty sure we scared everybody we targeted that night. Don't let him fool you, he loves Halloween."

"No. I think he is right. I think he hates it now. You're not here."

"Whatever." Jess was pretty sure Dean would claw and bite his way out of chick-flick moment long before accepting that emotions weren't scary. Plus, it was Sam, and he tended to avoid talk about Sam wishing he was around. _If he missed me he would call Jess. _He had told her once. She knew how much he craved hearing it, but she also figured it hurt more than it was worth sometimes and seeing as how it was Halloween and the wound Sam had left was probably raw, she understood.

And when the Hell had she decided Dean wasn't the reason Sam hated his childhood? She was pretty sure Sam had been abused... and considering her own childhood.

So, when had she decided Dean was okay? Wounded? Wow, she had way too much faith in this complete stranger turned big brother. But she was okay with it. that was weird in itself.

"What do I do with him them?" she asked after a pause.

"Whatever you want. He is your problem now." Dean grunted shifting somewhere on the other end of the phone, presumably into a different position on a bed maybe.

"Very funny mister, "How's my brother doing" every single time I call."

"Wh'ever. He'll stop grumbling if you give him crunch bars or kit-kats. They're his favorites." Dean chuckled again.

"Thanks for the ammo." Jess replied amiably.

"mmmmhmm," Dean sounded literally seconds away for sleep all of a sudden. Jess figured that the assumption that he had gone to a bed was probably accurate.

"Hey Jess?" Diana called from the door. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's great. I'm fine. I'll be in in a minute."

"What?" Dean grumbled.

"Not you silly, I was talking to my friend." Jess answered sweetly as Diana closed the door again.

"I should let you get back to your friends." He mumbled. It sounded more like "I shu'd le'you get back't'ya friends" in reality but she was a pro at deciphering Sam mumbo-jumbo and Dean's slur talk wasn't much different. They both had the same accent, whatever accent it was.

"It's okay. I should probably get back in there in a minute but I think I have a little more time before they get suspicious." Jess replied "Are you okay for real?"

"Mmmhm. I think I'll ring in the New Year in style with beer and a serious nap." Dean retorted still groggy but at least understandable.

"Now I know you're not okay. You're delirious. It's October genius, not January."

"Nope. My New Year starts Halloween." He retorted easily. "What's your costume?"

"Oh me? I'm a policewoman this year."

Dean chuckled. "Awesome! Have fun. And-"

"I know." She cut him off. "Take care of your little brother. You betcha chief, I always do."

Dean's chuckle was swifty turning into a snore.

"Hey Dean."

"Hum! Yeah? Still here." _B__arely._

"Listen, thanks for talking. I'm serious now, you sleep and don't do anything stupid until you're better please."

"Me, stupid. Awe, Jess, I'm better than that. I am surprised you think so little of me." She rolled her eyes fondly.

"Goodnight, happy Halloween darling."

"You too, sweetheart." The line went dead. Jess smiled to herself for a moment and returned to the party. There were a few, "what was that about,"s and a "Is everything okay?" but the whole "My cousin called, just catching up" gig seemed to work like a charm. Before long Jess found herself back in her apartment confronting what had to be the most dejected, worn-out, ready to crash and never move again, but still studying like his life depended on it, law-student she had ever laid eyes on.

"Sam." Was all she could manage. He grinned and it almost ruined the effect.

Jess laughed and swiped a pen off the table and propped it behind his ear. "Nice! I like it baby!" she laughed and kissed his adorable face. With a flourish she held out a bag to him. "I gotcha some candy even though you said you didn't like it." She laughed.

Sam opened the bag and his face lit up. "Hay, kit-kats and crunch are my favorite. How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess." She replied coyly. It was certainly turning into the perfect Halloween.

* * *

**Happy Halloween! let me know what you think. Reviews are all the payment writers need.**

**~Liana**


	5. Halloween Part 2

So this is new, not part of the original draft. I am rereading and polishing and changing (obviously if you are following me) so I figured since later on I begin adding memories I would add this for the fun of it.

Enjoy (Halloween is one of my favorite days too) (Chapter 5 in the right order)

~Kiliana

* * *

Dean ducked into the motel and out of the chilly October air and held up a bag triumphantly to show his brother.

"Yes!" Sam squealed and vaulted to his seventeen year old brother's side. "What did you get?"

"A shit-load of fake blood." Dean replied eagerly

"Watch the language Dean." John grunted from the table and his pile of books.

Dean rolled his eyes "Yeah, cause you never say shit like this either do yeah." He retorted to his father's back. At that John really did turn around and pin his oldest with a scalding glare. Dean grinned manically but added a very insincere "Sorry dad." Before turning rapidly back and pushing Sam for the bathroom. They locked the door and turned back to the bag of goodies.

"So blood and?..."

"Plenty of that molding paste and the primary colors of face paint."

"Ooooh, you got the tubes of paint and not those worthless flat pallets." Sam clapped his hands with glee.

"What are you boys going as?" Their father bellowed from the table.

Dean swung the door back open and bellowed back "Not sure yet, but I'm gonna be swimming in blood."

"Should go as a ghost of an ax murderer." John replied still focused on his research.

"Why? Is that what you're hunting?" Dean retorted.

"I am starting to think it is. We're gonna hit the road on Monday." John replied. Dean shrugged and shoved at Sammy when he opened his mouth to argue. "Not now!" He mouthed. "Please, let it go for now and lets have fun!"

Sam shrugged and pulled a wig out of the bag. "What the hell is this?"

"A wig, genius." Dean retorted.

"I get that. Why did you buy it?"

"So we could make a convincing beard on you if we wanted too. You could totally go as bloody-zombie-axe-murderer-turned-rabid-ghost." He chuckled. "I'll give you a bit of scruff and paint your face white with bruises and put blood on your lips and in the scruff."

Sam almost did a somersault in the cramped tiny bathroom he was so excited. "How will you do the scruff?"

"I'll show you in a minute. First with the face paint." He proceeded to carefully paint the entire upper part of his little brother's scrawny body a greenish white. With a stick of black stage make-up eye liner he got the insides of Sam's eyes causing them to pop out of his white face with startling ferocity. The first bruise looked like it was caused by a chain and wrapped around his neck. He spent nearly twenty minutes perfecting it before moving on to Sam's face. One eye was turned purple and green with modeling pudy to make it puff. It was half sealed shut (though allowing Sam to see still) and was oozing some green liquid (Sam wasn't sure what Dean was using) by the time he was finished.

"Nice!" John chuckled steps behind them making Dean jump slightly.

"Hey dad." He grinned looking up from where he was kneeling in front of Sam who was perched on the end of the tub. "You like it?"

"Looks professional." John replied and Dean beamed in the rare praise. Sam grinned too, which spoilt the effect.

"Gonna give him a split lip and a cut in his hairline before adding the scruff." Dean announced filling his father in.

"I wanna see how you do that, holler when you get to that point. Where are you going tonight?"

"There is a huge haunted house downtown called "Howler Heights that is supposed to be a big thing and then there is a smaller place east of here a few miles we might hit." Dean when back to applying bruises and Sam flashed his father a quick grin again. "Gonna be awesome. Best day of the year!"

John grinned back reveling in the sheer normalcy of the interaction (Normal – other than the _terrifyingly _accurate art work Dean was applying from far too many years of actual experience.)

"Who is ahead?" he asked not wanting to break the spell and return to his research.

"Dean." Sam whined.

"Me." Dean said at the same time. "Since we started my tally has gotten up to 412 scared scarers. Sam's at 280."

"That's if he counts all the times he helped me when we started and I was seven and not very scary." Sam grumbled.

"412 in six years. I'm impressed Dean. And Sam, 280 is impressive too. You're thirteen and have been doing this for six years." Sam blushed under his paint and they wouldn't have known if it hadn't been for his coy sheepish turn of his eyes.

"Thanks Dad." He mumbled.

"Call me when you get to the beard Dean." John reminded his oldest son and went back to the table.

Fifteen minutes later Dean gave a shout. "Come if you're coming."

John came and watched while Dean took the wig and snipped off a small bundle. He applied some glue directly to Sam's face as a thin sheen and touched the flat end of the hair bundle against it. With his razor sharp knife he cut off the one to two millimeters of hair that were touching Sam's face and moved on. The whole process was remarkably fast and Sam was left with a very convincing thick shadow of dark.

"Looks like a beard, but it's really too think." John pointed out.

Dean finished scruffing under Sam's nose. "I know. That's why I do this."

He brushed his hands over Sam's cheeks brushing off all the loose and extra-long pieces and Sam had perfect scruff. John gently touched his own chin and compared his image in the mirror to his youngest's face.

"I am really impressed son." He said softly with a fond smile at the blonde.

It was almost sad how greedily Dean lapped up the praise with a pleased smile. He ducked his head bashfully and rubbed the glue off his fingers absent-mindedly. "Thanks dad." Dean proceeded to dribbled fake blood around Sammy's mouth and work it into the beard in places.

"Alright." He announced. "Take a look."

Sam squealed with delight. "You're AWESOME!" he announced excitedly – looking nothing at all like a rabid ghostly anything.

"Go put on this white button-up I bought you, and a pair of jeans and your boots."

Sam snatched the shirt and strutted past his father with a broken pitiful attempt at a low voice "get out of my way punk." John landed a well-aimed kick on the seat of his pants as he passed. "Hey, punk, don't mess with me." Sam hopped forward rubbing his pockets. He rolled his startlingly scary eyes at John and grabbed his duffle that had his rattiest pair of pants in it.

"You could come, Dad." Dean said as he started to mottle his face with splotches of white and sickly yellow and peachy red.

"Nah, it's fun to see you both get all dressed up, but haunted houses aren't my thing. I already know how easy it is for you to scare the shit out of someone even without the make-up." He cuffed Dean's ears before rumpling his hair and messing up the gel job.

"Dad." Dean whined brushing him off and getting yellow all over John's arm in the process.

John chuckled and went back to the table.

Forty-five minutes later, Dean and Sam stepped in front of him.

"Holy crap! Dean!" John announced his eyes going wide. "You really are trying to kill these poor people with terror aren't you?"

Dean met him with a blank serious expression and held out his hands. There was skin peeling off his fingers leaving raw sores underneath. His face had five or six pussy wounds weeping yellow fluid, his chin was skinned with peeling skin around it. One eye looked like it was missing when he closed it since all it left was a black spot surrounded by tight white and red angry looking scar tissue. His arms were in much the same condition as his face and he was missing three teeth (John did have the check and make sure he hadn't gotten so crazy to pull them and that wasn't real blood in his mouth.

Sam was his ghostly ghoul with a bloody shirt. The arms were torn and tattered and his had a piece of rebar seemingly stuck in his shoulder.

"Is that going to hurt him if he falls on it?" John asked touching the bar.

"Shouldn't, it might bruise. I padded it with lots of tape and some modeling clay." Dean assured him. As if Dean would ever do anything that might hazard Sam's well-being (other than going out of Halloween dressed more convincingly then the creatures he was imitating with the sole intent to scare as many professional scarers as possible.)

John shook his head and chuckled. Waving them to the door, "Time's wasting, its seven already."

Dean snagged Sam's shirt as steered him for the door. "Yes I do have my gun loaded with silver and I have salt and an iron knife and holy water. I'll keep an eye on Sam and we'll be back before two." He ticked off the list in his head and shut the door.

John was really proud of his boys.

SPN

Howler Heights was every bit as awesome as Dean expected. There were dozens of mazes and floors or horrors. They spent five hours there and never scared the same person twice (they also scared everyone they passed). Just walking around a corner was enough to elicit a shriek. Yelling boo upgraded the shriek to a tin whistle scream (boys included) and if they hid and pounced in the middle of a terror maze – well let's just say not everyone who came that night went home with dry pants.

Sam was on a roll. He would come out chewing on one of the prop 'hands' they found lying around, look up at the person, and smile twistedly dropping the flopping hand and stepping forwards with a soft. "mmmmmm." (Lesson number one in Dean Winchester's 'how-to-scare-the-living-shit-out-of-everyone-you-want' school: Never ever talk louder then you absolutely have too. Number two: Never say 'brains' or 'dinner' or 'food' as your first word, they were not scary. Number three: mmmm is better than yum, simple and slow with spasms of fast is scarier than fast and complicated because their minds have _no _problem figuring out exactly what you are saying and implying despite the noisy atmosphere.

Dean, on the other hand, would sit on the middle of the room with his head bowed until someone came in. he wouldn't move and they would try to edge around him or they would walk towards him, then with all the speed and skill he possessed he would seemingly suddenly be on his feet looking at them with one eye and a gaping hole. They would shriek more often than not and that was his cue to reach for them with his rotting hands. They usually fled. If they didn't – that is when Sam would make his own entrance. They took turns being the first to scare.

Every single attempt was successful.

Seven girls fainted dead for Dean. And two fainted for Sam.

When it came to the scarers… jumping someone who is jumping someone else was Dean Winchester's self-professed favorite hobby outside of hunting.

Someone tried to jump Dean and he merely turned to face them, reached out and yanked the plug running the eerie lights out of the wall, and chuckled menacingly in the complete darkness. "Sugar." He drawled in a half hiss half growl. "Last mistake you'll ever make." She was one of his seven... they heard her scream die on her lips and her body hit the floor with an echoing thud. Dean couldn't stop laughing for five minutes while Sam jumped up and down in glee. They were both on the highest adrenaline bender of their lives.

Sam scared Alicia from school before helping her up from the corner with an "It's Sam Dagg, you're ok."

She screamed at him again, punched at him and then pulled him into a crushing hug. "You two are awesome!" she laughed, and followed them around for seven minutes to watch their conquest.

Dean scared the school football quarterback so bad that he fled with less than dry pants screaming like a little girl. "Wow." The brothers announced looking at each other and laughing.

By the time they made it home, Dean was carrying an exhausted lump of Sam piggy back.

"Dude. I love Halloween." Sam chuckled into Dean's goop covered neck.

"That makes two of us." Dean huffed in reply as he plodded along.

"What's the total?" John met them at the door and peeled Sam away into his own arms and onto the nearest bed.

Sam looked up and gave him a triumphant tired smile. "Hundred seventy-three – Dean. Hundred forty-five – me."

"Hundreds!" John laughed "That's double what you have ever scored in a night."

"Shoulda seen it Dad." Dean laughed. "This poor girl fainted dead away when she tried to jump me and I turned it around on her."

"And he made the football star at school wet his pants and scream like a girl." Sam chimed in. John laughed long and hard as they boys began to recount the highlights of the night to him. He hadn't laughed that hard in a long time, and it felt wonderful.

By the time showers were finished, and Dean had somehow miraculously removed all of their make-up, they had told their father the entire story while they had gorged themselves on kit-kats and crunch bars that John had been hiding. Tthe morning was grey outside and Sam was passed-out with his damp head in Dean's lap before Dean and John were finished.

"It was a good Halloween?" John asked tilting Dean's face up to his and looking into his son's drifting, fluttering ones.

Dean smiled really slow his rare, honest, innocent smile that once had been so readily given to his mother and could light a room of fire with its sheer love. "Yeah, Dad. It was the best."

He nudged Sam higher into his arms to carry him to bed when John surprised him by taking the floppy puppy-boy into his own arms and crossing the space to the other bed. Dean followed slowly as if through soup and crawled into the side of the bed nearest the door. If a monster wanted Sam, first it had to get through John, than Dean before it could have him.

"Good night son." John said killing the lights. "Happy All Saints day."

Dean chuckled into the dark. "The day after monsters is the day of Saints, November first." He voice hitched painfully and broke. Because the day after the say of Saints, was the day or the dead souls, including his mother. John moved back to the bedside and touched his face. "Sleep now, miss her tomorrow."

SPN

Jess had left an hour before and Sam was still on his bed staring brokenly at the cracked frame of him and his brother.

Dean lived for Halloween throughout their teenaged years. He would start talking about it as soon as September rolled around, and for all their father's faults, Sam could not remember a time that they had _not _been settled in a motel in a big city with at least one huge haunted house for ten years.

At the time he hadn't even thought about it, but hind-sight is twenty-twenty. Dean never wanted or asked for a thing their whole life. He never planned for anything. He lived the life of a drifter from the time he was four. The end of the week or the next hunt was the farthest his world extended. Sam planned and bucked against their nomadic lifestyle wanting everything. Where he never stopped asking for everything from answers to physical possessions, Dean never asked for a thing. Not even once.

John had given him every year the one and only thing he ever asked for – even if it was not in words – the one thing he ever wanted, the one thing he planned for. John made sure his son got Halloween to be a kid again.

Sam wiped away his tears. He hated what his father had done to Dean as a person. Dean could have done anything with his life and John turned him into a hunter, a soldier, and weapon. Sam hated their father for what he had done to Sam. Here he was cut completely off from his family and his brother because of the life John chose and Sam rejected. But he couldn't hate his father on this one night every year.

This was the one night their father ever let himself just be their father. The one night Dean was a kid with wild ideas and no responsibility. The one night they were the family Dean hungered for his whole life. He looked over at his phone. Dean number was highlighted in the contacts list and he longed to simply push the button. But he couldn't, if he had grown to hate Halloween in the past two years, so had Dean. He was probably hunting or drinking or with a girl, or he might of changed his number.

Sam hit call anyway. The phone rang. Once. And Beep (it was busy): "Hey this is Dean." His voice was so familiar Sam's throat closed up and a few tears burned down his face. He missed his brother so damn much. "Leave your damn message. I'll call if I want."

Beep.

Sam simply breathed for a moment before he recovered enough to shut the phone. He chucked it across the room into the wall and grabbed his old bag of stage make-up. He could do this. He HAD to do this! For Dean.

An hour later he was ready when Jess bounced through the door and laughed with delight.

Unnoticed the phone by the wall buzzed.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

And it went dead. Chirping out its final breath less than a moment later.

Sam listened the message on the second of September.

"Happy Halloween." Dean's gruff voice choked down the line before it went silent.

Sam cried that night.

* * *

Awww... cry! Sorry I have a thing with going from funny to sad. - okay you're right, not actually that sorry.

~Liana


	6. Mac the Hobo?

**Hey my lovely followers! You make me so happy! **

**Dean's worshiper: thank you so much for the reviews! I am glad you are enjoying the story! **

**SciFiRockerGeek: Thank you! Yes, I love writing their interactions, and the twist of Sam is just icing on the cake. It's fun!**

**DragonRider2000: I am SO happy to be entertainment! It is why I write. Thank you for following.**

** Note: I probably said this before, this is not going to turn into a Dean/Jess story... I like him being her "big brother" too much. **

**I do not own Supernatual**

**Tag: HUMOR! :) yes I had fun writing this.**

**I have already written the next three chapters, but they need a little work, so I am going to post this short chapter a little earlier, so I have a bit more time to fix up the next chapter. I love ya all! enjoy!**

**~Kiliana**

* * *

"Hey Dean, It's Jess. You know that already. So, Sam's on a trip for the next three days, if you wanted to call and chat at any time, my schedule is free. I thought maybe I would catch you up on what's been going on for the past month. Anyway Dude. It's up to you. Bye."

Dean didn't call her back that day or the next. It wasn't until the last day of Sam's trip. Jess was in the shower when he did call, but he left a message. It was so amusing she replayed twice before calling back.

"Hey geerl." He squeaked in a hobo slang that she almost couldn't understand. "Dis ees Mac-er-Roni. I gotcha mess-sage. I'ma free naw fer da evenin. Call iffin ya wants too. Audios ameegas."

The phone rang once before he picked up. "Hey Jess."

"Hey Mac-er-Roni. What's up with the slang?"

"Well, it was fun, but the practical side was just in case anyone one else heard it, it wouldn't sound like me."

Obviously by anyone else he meant Sam. "Oh well that makes sense. So how are you?"

"I'm fine." He answered without thinking.

"Is that a lie?" Jess was skeptical. After three years with Sam, she was well used to the "I'm fine" deal.

"Not really. And before you ask, I broke my wrist but it's almost healed." Dean sounded annoyed but amused at her.

"Well, I'm sorry you got hurt." Jess replied.

"Yeah, whatever." He sounded like he was about to hang up on her and she rolled her eyes.

"Don't hang up on me dude."

"Why not? Geez you're so controlling!" He fussed in an obviously Sam imitation voice.

"Hah! The sad thing is that sounds just like him." Jess giggled. "Don't mock my boy-friend."

"Please. I've got every right." Dean drawled at her.

"Oh yeees ameego!" Jess's hobo slang was recognizably reminiscent of Dean's message. She could practically hear him smile over the phone.

"Wow. Um, Jess, look I'm working a job and I have an important call from a... colleague... coming in on the other line. I gotta take it."

"Call me later." She agreed amiably. She knew better then to ask about the obvious lie.

"Sure thing." He replied.

But she knew he wouldn't. He never called. She was always the one to pick up the phone. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if both brothers were like that and that is why they never made up.

It hurt her more than it used to.

Sometimes it seemed as if every passing day, each flitting week, as the fragile hourglass of time slowly ran out, the pain she felt at the separation of her boys grew more and more intense.

* * *

**Just a mix of humor and sad little tidbits of sadness. **

**Short, yes, I warned you. But the next chapter will totally make up for that... :) **

**~Kiliana**


	7. The Boys are Back in Town (Part 1)

**Here ya go. Another chapter (when I should be studying...) :) this chapter is actually the first one I wrote - so basically the reason I wrote this story. It's going to be split into two or three parts, so this is just the first part.**

**Anyway. I hope you like it.**

**I have finals for some of my classes next week, so I might be slow posting the next chapter. thanks for sticking with me.**

**I'll be posting a new two-parter story pretty soon, called "Box of Memories" (right now, it could change, but I'll make sure to let you know) Great fun where Sam and Dean find some old mementos. It has nothing to do with this particular story line, but I'd like to know what you think. Keep your eyes open for that post. probably tomorrow after I clean it up a little more.**

**Enjoy and as always: I do not own supernatural, I am not making money from this. :)**

**Luvies! ~ Kiliana**

* * *

It had been nine months since the first time Jess had called Sam's brother, nine month since she learned what it meant to have a brother, nine months since she learned just how much Sam had lost.

And here she was at the side of the same Sam, a very sick and getting sicker Sam. His sweat slicked hair was clinging to his forehead, and to the pillow, and to the sheets, and to anything it could latch onto like a living creature from the pit of the ocean. Jess was worried sick as Sam's fever climbed steadily towards 104^F as the third day slowly ticked passed. Having exhausted every medicine she could get her hands on, she finally caved in desperation and called the one person for whom Sam had been calling the for the past thirty six hours since the fever had started.

"Hey Dean, It's Jess. I hope you get this." She took in a shuttering breath and wiped her tears away. "I don't know what to do! Sam has never been this sick before, and his fever won't come down. It's sitting fat and happy at one hundred-three point five and I don't know what to do. I just- I mean- I was thinking he would get better, but it's been three days and he became irrational this morning when his fever spiked. Help please Dean… I don't know if he is going to be ok, or if I should take him to the hospital. Call me please. I don't know what to do." Jess hung up the phone and rested her head on the back of the chair.

Sam moaned turning over in this feverish dream and called out for Dean again. "It's okay baby." She murmured brushing the rebellious hair aside and kissing his sweat soaked forehead. Her breath hitched as she faced the uncertain possibility of Dean not getting her call for days. Maybe she should take Sam to the hospital.

Jess startled a few minutes later when her phone went off. She fumbled for it barely glancing at the caller ID before opening it.

"Jess, I'm in the car and I'll be there in three hours. Get a cold rag, if you haven't, and cool down his face." He said before she could even say hi.

"I have a rag." Jess defended slightly stung that he thought so low of her despite the unbelievable relief she felt at his words. Her voice was shaky and her emotions felt all over the place and she nervously twisted her hand into the sheet.

"Is it cold? As in Ice cold." Dean replied completely unfazed by her tone.

"No." she murmured brokenly realizing again that she hadn't the faintest idea what she was doing. _Wait did he just say he was in the car? Coming? Coming in three…_

"Get a bowl of ice-water, and dip the rag into that whenever it gets lukewarm." Dean gently drew her attention back.

"Kay." _Dean. Here. Coming… Holy-_

"Hey, you doing great." Dean's voice had a smooth relaxing quality instead of the easy happy-go-lucky charm or snapped harsh pained or even its usual Casanova quality. Jess registered somewhere in her groggy brain that is was slightly impressive that he could completely relax her worry without her hearing anything more than his voice. "Jess, hold on for a few more hours and I'll be there okay?"

_I'll be there. Coming. Dean the mystery brother... _"You're actually coming?" she said still completely disbelieving. _Oh my -_

He chuckled halfheartedly. "I know what an ass my brother can be when he is that sick. And you sound ready to fade, you need backup." He paused listening to her hitching breaths. "Cold rag Jess, bring his temperature down."

"Yeah, I got it, cold rag." _Dean is coming. Dean is actually coming... coming._

"Grab a towel from the bathroom, soak it and wrap it around his torso. It might be a good idea to put a plastic trash bag under him so you don't waterlog the bed."

"But he is shivering already." Only after she said it did she realize how stupid she must sound. He probably had loads of experience with fev-

"I know. It's the fever. Do it anyway. Believe me, I understand how fevers work, I have handled my fair share of them. Trust me Jess." And she did. God help her she did.

She laughed unsteadily. "I haven't ever met you, Sam denies your existence most of the time, and still I trust you explicitly. What does that say about me." She snorted. She wanted to start crying again, but still, she had appearances to attempt to gather up and hopefully reinstate after the past several minutes of horrible weepy conversation. _Though she did have a good excuse... _

"That you are a smart girl." He laughed over the phone. "Hey." His voice returned to soothing calm. "How long have you been up?"

"I think I got an hour of sleep last night, but that's it since his fever spiked yesterday morning." She vaguely attempted to replay the past day.

"Alright, hang in there sweetheart."

"You keep saying that." Ya her brain and her mouth had a disconnect somewhere because she wasn't usually this spacey...

"If I am right, I have only said that twice. I have two more allowed before I match you for "I don't know what to do's" from your voice message on my phone." Dean retorted gently. She was pretty sure he was being nice to her because of her horribly sleep deprived state._  
_

"True that." She murmured over the clatter of ice as she filled a bowl.

"Good girl. Three hours." The line went dead. Jessica draped the rag over Sam's forehead and headed for the bathroom. Catching a glance of herself in the mirror, she stopped short.

"Oh my goodness, Sam's brother is coming and I look like shit." She gasped. _He really is coming. I better clean up to be at least someone presentable. I don't want to embarrass Sam. _"Wow I am hopelessly self-centered if I'll let my boyfriend burn in fever so I can dress up for his brother…" she laughed unsteadily at herself and felt only slightly better.

Yanking out her make-up bag, she tried to remedy some of the damage sleep-deprivation had wrought on her face. Mascara, some concealer, a bit of lip gloss, and she looked less like a zombie and more like a very tired girl. She tied up her hair, slipped into lounge pants and a modest T-shirt.

"What am I doing?" she asked the mirror. "I totally called Sam's estranged brother, who he desperately wants, but won't let go of his pride long enough to seek reconciliation. I know hardly know anything about the guy – I know he liked a stray cat, which doesn't count much - and I asked him to come while Sam as a freakin' fever. Please don't let this be a mistake." Then she turned away. Fear and anticipation tied and untied knots in her stomach as she dragged the towel of the rod and soaked it in the cold water.

A towel, and trash bag, and a bunch of nervous laughs and stomach flutters later, Jess was seated by Sam again with a freshly cooled rag. Her eye flitted to the clock. Thirty minutes had passed.

Two hours thirty minutes to go.

Jess leapt up and, leaving the door open so she could hear Sam, raced to the kitchen.

A batch of cookies made from frozen homemade dough and several trips to the bedroom later. An hour had passed.

Two hours to go. Nervously Jess pulled the cookies out and set them on the cooling rack.

Ten minutes.

Twelve minutes.

Still twelve minutes.

Jess checked on Sam, then sat on the bed and folded the laundry.

Thirty minutes.

An hour and a half left. Sam was tossing so Jess returned to his side for the millionth time since she had stood up. She smoothed back his hair, freshened the cloth and put it back over his forehead before tucking him in. She sat back. Sam was still tossing and murmuring Dean's name in fevered sleep.

Thirty-two minutes. _WOW, Jess, nervous much. No not nervous, just stressed and need help, just need help, okay, so nervous too. But I've never met any of his family. Okay yeah totally nervous. Calm down Jess. He is Sam's brother. He is nice. You trust him, he is kind over the phone. Seriously, nervous much!_

Jess cooled Sam's forehead stood up to walk around. A yawn that almost split her head in half prevented her from seeing Sam for the few minutes before he shot up right screaming Dean's name. She raced to his side. "Hey, hey baby. You're alright. Lie down sweetie." She dodged his frantically swinging arms and rested her hand against his forehead. "Shit Sam. You're fever is going back up." She got socked in the mouth for that. Then one look at his crazed and glassed eyes had her backing off again while sucking at her split lip.

"Lie down baby, Dean is on his way, okay? Dean is coming, please lie down!" she pleaded huddled at the foot of the bed matching stare for glassy uncomprehending stare.

Sam mumbled something and lurched for his – his gun!

Jess fled.

He was crazy and she didn't know if he was going to take a shot or not. As she fled, all she heard was something about ghosts and monsters and "Let my brother go you damn beast." Which was said with total clarity.

Jessica slammed the door.

She could hear him tossing around, then a thump as he hit the floor. With frantic haste she slammed a random chair against the door to hold it shut since it swung towards her when opened. Then, shivering with fright, Jess crumbled to the ground shaking as she dug her phone out of her pocket. The clock said it had been two hours. Only two hours. Dean was still and hour away.

The phone rung once.

Twice, and she fully expected it to go to voice-mail like it had every other time. But half way through the third ring, Dean's perfectly calm voice greeted her, "What did he do?" he asked resigned, as if fully expecting something.

Jess less loose... "Oh God Dean, he is insane. He has his gun and he is shrieking something about monsters and he called me a beast and HE HAS A GUN Dean, he was going to shoot me and he was screaming for me to "let his brother go" and I shut the door and blocked it with a chair and HE IS CRAZY and I think he fell off the bed and I am SO scared! Dean HELP!" she cried frantically.

Dean remarkably said nothing until she had quieted to gasping hitched breathes. "Damn." Okay, not the reaction she expected.

"Dean?" Jess asked softly, crawling to the couch and curling up pitifully.

"I'm thirty minutes out Jess, I'm pushing the speed limit but I'll push it further. Stay out of that damn room before I get there, okay?"

"No problem." Jess's voice shook from the hysterics threatening to burst out of her chest.

"Better yet, stay on the phone."

"kay." She breathed.

"Are you in the living room?"

"Yes, I'm on the couch."

"Okay, now that you are calm, tell me what happened again.

"Oh kay." Jess breathed calming herself further. "I went in and I was cooling his forehead. Then I stood up to stretch the cramps in my legs and I turned away for half a moment and he shot into an upright position yelling for you. I tried to calm him down but he was throwing punches and his eyes were cloudy and unfocused. He hit me on the mouth, not bad, but I backed off. His fever had gone up again I think. And then he started babbling about ghosts and monsters and then he was reaching for his gun and God help me I was terrified and-"

"Hey, breathe Jess, calm down, you're rushing again." Dean interrupted her rising panic.

"Yeah, Yah, right. Oh kay. I'm good. I'm good. I'm safe. I'm calm. Wheeeeeew." She had completely messed up her hair again from her frantic hands, but she started to breathe in tandem with Dean's exaggerated breathing in her ear.

"Better." He asked in his soothing gravelly voice.

"Yeah." She certainly felt better. "So he reached over and grabbed his gun from where it was hidden under the pillows. I fled and as I was slamming the door, he yells "Let my brother go you damn beast." I put the chair in the living room under the door handle like you see people do on TV. Then I called you."

"Can you remember anything that he was saying other than that?"

"Something about the moon, and a wolf, and monsters, and you I think."

"Awe shit." Dean cursed.

Jess felt his voice calm her again. She was so tired and scared. She just wanted him there already.

"Are you close?"

"Yep. Fifteen minutes. Did you use Sam's geeky oak chair? Cause that is going to be the only chair that will keep him in if he tries to get out."

"Yes, Is he going to be okay? Is he going to hurt himself" "_or me…" went unasked but clearly understood._ Jess was worried beyond belief when Dean said he might try to get out. It didn't even compute to her that perhaps she should be worried that he know about the fact that Sam had a favorite oak chair... after all Dean knew everything.

"He is confused and I am guessing he is too weak to try to do anything. Don't worry, when I get his fever back down he will be fine. My guess is that a nightmare is bleeding over into reality right now and he will go right back to his charming lethargic sick Sammy self when he fully wakes up. But I don't want you going in there if he has a gun, okay?"

"Oh don't worry. I love the man but I am totally creeped out by him right now."

"Good. Hey Jess, what is your favorite color?"

"Blue, why?" Jess asked totally confused again.

"Oh no reason, you know, passing the time. I'm driving remember, it's kinda monotonous."

"Right, and you're trying to distract me from the mess of boyfriend in the other room."

"Yahtzee." He laughed.

"Is that a family saying? Because Sam says that all the time."

"Oh really? He never used to, I only said that to annoy Dad and Sam and then it stuck. Heh, I still say it to annoy my Dad. So what is going on this weekend?"

Dean was the master at small talk, but Jess didn't really realize as much until a long time later when she was looking back. Even though she knew he was distracting her, he still managed to distract her from that knowledge. She hardly registered time passing before he suddenly interrupted her.

"Hey Jess, come unlock the door. See you in a sec." the line went dead and she stood turning slowly towards the door.

Time seemed to slow as she made her way across the carpet.

Suddenly she was afraid. For nine months she had wondered what he was like. She pictured him looking a lot like Sam, but more charming. He certainly sounded more charming, more at ease talking.

Was he tall and big like Sam? Did he have the same cute long floppy brown hair? Geeky hazel-brown eyes, perhaps...

Was he friendly, helpful, a jerk?

...Now here he was. Just on the other side of the wood.

Jess slowly turned the lock and took a deep breath.

* * *

**Tada! A cliffy!**

**YAY! Like I said, this is the reason I came up with the story! I like this chapter a lot!**

**So, what do you think so far? feed my muse. (she drives me crazy when I ignore her)**

**Only seconds away... seconds... **

**~Kiliana**


	8. The Boys are Back in Town (Part 2)

**So, here is the next part of the ongoing story. :) Sorry it took me longer to post then I wanted. It is finals week for one of my classes and I am covered up with essay writing. But I always make time for my lovely readers. :)**

**I also got my other story posted. Check it out. It's called "Box of Memories."**

**Boredwaywarddragon: Thank you SO much! *Happy dance* I'm so glad you like them! Yes I was considering doing another Sherlock but Dean and Sam adn Jess are just SO much fun to write. maybe when I finish this story I'll look into doing another Sherlock.**

**idreamofivan: Thank you for your thoughts. I went back and worked on that section, it's less sappy now :D and here you with another chapter. **

**darknessprincess1990, lovejensenacklesforever and cyenthia 30: I'm SO glad you liked it. I really am it makes my day to know that people enjoy my work. I love the relationship between Dean and Jess, he is such an awesome big brother to Sam and also to Jess now :) (Ps: lovejensen, your pen name cracked me up!)**

**Here you go**

**~Kiliana**

* * *

_Last chapter:_

_"Hey Jess, come unlock the door. See you in a sec." the line went dead and she stood turning slowly towards the door._

_Time seemed to slow as she made her way across the carpet._

_Suddenly she was afraid. For nine months she had wondered what he was like. She pictured him looking a lot like Sam, but more charming. He certainly sounded more charming, more at ease talking._

_Was he tall and big like Sam? Did he have the same cute long floppy brown hair? Geeky hazel-brown eyes, perhaps..._

_Was he friendly, helpful, a jerk?_

_...Now here he was. Just on the other side of the wood._

_Jess slowly turned the lock and took a deep breath._

* * *

Now:

When she swung the door open, she was left gaping in shock at the man outside. He was certainly not what she had been expecting. He was at least six feet tall, short compared to Sam, with dirty short blonde hair and charming, dangerous and completely disarming green eyes. His torn jeans had seen plenty of use, she decided. AC/DC t-shirt under a plaid collared shirt. He had a leather jacket folded over the arm that held a military duffle while the other was idly twirling what must have been car keys.

"You done checking me out yet beautiful?" he asked in the most charming drawl he had used yet. Jessica felt herself flush to the roots of her hair before glancing away.

"You're just nothing like what I imagined." She said hurriedly. "Come in, come in."

"You know." Dean chucked as he brushed past and dropped his bag and jacket in the floor. "You are way out of my dorky little brother's league."

Jess couldn't have felt more awkward if she had tried.

Here was the man she had been talking to and known about – completely without his brother's knowledge – for nine months. Now with just him in the apartment – not counting the sick delirious one – she felt totally out control. Dean took half a minute longer to size her up leaving her in awkward agony before taking pity on her. He quietly dug a kit out of his duffle and touched her arm. "Where is my geeky brother?"

"He is in here." She said nervously as she gestured towards the chair and door.

"Hey don't worry sweetheart, it's gonna be fine. When I'm around everything is rainbows and unicorns and sticky pancakes."

Jessica did a double take. _What?_

Dean winked at her and moved the chair. She only closed her mouth when she realized she had left it hanging open.

"Sammy?" he voice had changed again to soft caring and simply everything Jessica imagined brother's to sound like. She only had sisters herself. "Hey geek-boy, I'm coming in. The monsters are all dead and the ghosts are gone. Please don't shoot me, kay?"

Dean cracked the door and surveyed the room. There was a lump of tangled sheets and sweaty gasping giant in the middle of the floor but Dean's eyes were drawn first to the shiny gun in the hand outstretched towards the door. _Damn._

Dean stepped carefully into the room leaving Jess in the doorway. Sam cracked an eye open. Suddenly in a flurry of gasping, struggling movement, Sam sat up and drew a shaky bead on the intruder.

"Son of a Bitch! Sam!" Dean cursed flinging himself forwards as the gun went off. The fight was completely one-sided, Sam's faint struggles not close to combat worthy. In less then ten seconds Jess found herself staring down at Dean – silver barreled gun safely tucked in his own waist band by a gun of his own _Winchesters and their guns_ – and Sam, who seemed more sweat then man at the moment.

"Damn it brother, you trying to kill me? If I wasn't so embarrassed by your terrible aim or by the fact that you're shooting at me, I might be really proud that you're still trying to protect yourself even when raving in fever." Dean grinned and tipped his brother's damp face back to look at him.

"Dean." Sam gasped trying to get loose with surprisingly forceful kicks and punches.

"I'm right here kiddo." Dean's voice was soft again, and filled with love, even while he manhandled is brother.

"No. No! DEAN!" Sam shouted hoarsely still frantically trying to claw his way free.

Dean pinned his arms between them and drew his brother up to his chest rocking slowly back and forth.

"Hey. Hey, I know kid. I'm here ok, listen to my voice. I'm here. Your fantastic awesome girlfriend – who you totally don't deserve, like congrats on manning up and join the big boy club – called me okay? I'm here."

"Dean. Where's – I need – I – I want Dean!" Sam's voice cracked and struggled a little longer before burying his head in the crook of Dean's neck, stilling instantly.

"Dean?" He asked in a small quivering voice.

"S'me punk." Dean replied dragging him in tighter.

"Can't be… Dean s'mad t'me. Dean. I want m'brotder." Sam sounded miserable.

"For being as smart as you are geek, you sure can be stupid. I'm your brother. I forgave you before you walked out. I'll always come if you call."

Jess felt a funny lump in her throat at the touching exchange and suddenly felt like an intruder, out of place, and the familiar surge of jealously that the name Dean conjured up came rushing in full force, but this time she was not bitter. Seeing them together on the floor – watching Dean carefully brush Sam's hair out of his waxy face – witnessing Sam completely relax and melt into his brother. Her heart felt ready to overflow with sheer happiness and cute-cuddly-fluffy-bunnies (And she totally imagined that sentence in Dean's voice.)

Dean swept Sam off the floor with practiced ease and – keeping Sam's nose firmly planted in his neck – settled them together on the bed. For a few moments longer he remained firmly crushing his brother to his chest while murmuring soft words of encouragement, forgiveness, and (though he would never admit it because hey, chick-flicks-not-allowed) love.

"Hey Sammy, I got your back!"

"B'Dean iss in trouble. Monsers, lycanthropy." Sam mumbled into Dean's neck.

"Only you would use big-ass words when running hundred-five little big geek brother. Damn you're hot. And not hot like lady hot, you look like Hell warmed over, Sasquatch. Plus, do you really think a ware-wolf could possibly keep your awesome big brother away from you? They're not that good." Dean chuckled rocking Sam.

Sam hummed into Dean's shoulder. "Miss you." He said at last.

"Me too kiddo!" Dean said with a strange hitch to his voice. He blinked his eyes a few times before finally setting Sam against the pillows letting his hand linger on his forehead.

"Hey listen kid, I gotta bring your temperature down, okay? So I'm gonna figure out what is actually is first." He dug into the small kit he had with him and pulled out an electronic thermometer and jammed it kindly at Sam's ear. "Dude! Hundred-four point six is impressive. Way to go princess." He exclaimed. "But seriously, could you try for once in your life to NOT be a drama queen? One-hundred-four is a bit excessive even for you. If you wanted attention, you could'a simply jumped up on a table and danced. That combined with your freakish height would'a done it." Sam hummed half-consciously trying to focus on Dean's words. Flipping the thermometer off somewhere to the side, Dean dug out a bottle of liquid medicine. With a medicine syringe, he drew up some of the liquid and slipped it between his brother's cracked ashen lips. Sam coughed a little but swallowed reflexively.

"Okay buddy, now I'm going to cool you off."

"Can I help?" Jess asked from the foot of the bed. To Dean's credit, he didn't jump at the sudden reappearance of her forgotten presence.

"Actually yes. If you would get out a fresh pair of sweatpants and a shirt... Wait. Oh Sammy! Oh you stupid adorable freak!" Dean laughed and deflated back the bed beside his brother.

"What?" The alarm in Jess's voice snapped Dean back out of whatever fog he was in. He blinked at her for a moment before his emerald eyes drifted back to his brother.

"I always wondered what happened to that stupid shirt." Dean whispered and tapped Sam's chest right in the middle of the Def Leppard symbol.

"It's your shirt?" Jess asked softly. "That makes a lot of sense actually, he wears it a lot when he gets stressed."

Dean ran his hand across his face and stood up again. "Yeah, when he was a kid if he was feeling bad, he would always ask me if he could wear a shirt of mine to bed. As we got older he started stealing them without asking. That was his favorite when he was seventeen and it vanished not long before he left. I guess I just thought he wouldn't have wanted the reminder... Just a stupid shirt, but it was mine and he liked it. Anyway, if you will get him a fresh sweats, I've got a t-shirt in my bag. Stay here half a sec. Hey kid, I'll be right back." Dean wasn't kidding. He had hardly left before Jess found her arms full of stained dirty "Deep Purple" shirt. "And get him some fresh boxers too. Put them in the bathroom." Dean said before pealing the sweat soaked t-shirt off of his compliant brother. When he was suitably stripped to his boxers, Dean settled his blazing hot forehead against his neck and hoisted him easily off the bed headed for the bathroom.

"Jess." He called and she poked her head out the door.

"Yes?"

"Hit the water. Plug the drain and turn on only cold."

Jess did as she was told and when she turned back around, Dean was in a squat with Sam balanced across his lap and against his chest. Streaks of sweat were training their way across his cheeks and down his neck into Sam's already sweat soaked hair. "For someone who only eats rabbit food, you weigh a ton little brother." He huffed. Jess laughed in amusement at his words and straightened up.

"That's done, what next Dean?"

"Nothing sweetheart, I've got it from here. If you could empty the freezer of ice and bring it in here, that would be great."

Jess did just that and by the time she was back, Dean was settling Sam into the tub and kicking sweat soaked boxers at the laundry hamper.

"Here." She said and was promptly shocked to see Dean simply dump the entire tub over his brother's head. Sam was shivering violently under Dean's gentle hand.

"Thanks sweetheart, now as I understand it, and simply from the way you look – which, by the way, is like someone two steps away from their grave, having already dug themselves back out after coming back as a zombie – and I would know – you haven't slept enough in the past three days, so go crash on the couch. I got this, and Sam is going to be fine, but you don't need to watch this next bit. Please, Jess." Dean had looked back up and his steady green gaze met her tired one. She folded like a house of cards and dragged herself out to the living room where she crashed on the couch and didn't move from the rest of the night.

Seriously who came up with Zombies and digging themselves back out of graves? One thing for sure, Dean had a terrific sense of humor coupled with a vivid imagination and a colorful vocabulary. He was probably quite the party!

* * *

**Tada!**

**Review my friends, it only takes a minute!**

**heehee... thanks idreamofivan, I laughed when I read your review... that was totally not what I had in mind... so I fixed it. :) much as I would love to see Sam try to squeeze his way into a size small kids t-shirt, I seriously don't think that it is possible. :P**

**Let me know what you think.**

**Love you all**

**~Kiliana**


	9. The Boys are Back in Town (Part 3)

**Hey! So this is probably the longest chapter yet. I was thinking about breaking it in two again, but no I wont. I LOVE this chapter. (I love the whole "the boys are back in town" chapter ark together but that is a given) I have BIG plans about where to take this story, but this is the end of what I had pre-written. Luckily for you'll, my finals for the year and OVER (thank heavens I did the fast tracks) so I should have time to write more again. **

**Shoot me ideas to write in. I love suggestions!**

**Scrappingrrl, I love that. sick!Sam. So I figured that I really like making Sam sick... I'll definitely write him passing out. that will be fun! (Coming up in the next few chapters: Sam passes out! humor!)**

**Superchiwo: Dean is the best big brother ever! (I get jealous of Sam every now and again)!**

**Thank you ALL for replying! I am SO glad that people are enjoying this. I REALLY am so glad!**

**~Kiliana**

* * *

When Jess came to – presumably the next day although it would have been the next century for all she knew – the house was alarmingly silent. Jess rubbed her eyes. _Sam was sick. Sam was acting delirious. Dean came. DEAN CAME! _Jess shot to her feet and stumbled blindly over the coffee table crashing into the lamp and scattering large nerdy textbooks everywhere. Jess lunged after the lamp and head her breath as the thudding subsided. _Ouch, that was not the plan. _

Slowly she picked herself back up off the floor and brushed her mess of hair behind her ears. Then suddenly she heard someone knocking on the front door… again. _Well shit, At least I know what woke me up. _She thought, amused when her mind thought that in Dean's voice.

"Hmm?" she asked – well, actually hmmed – at the person outside as she swung the door open blinking owlishly in the unexpected light.

"Jess, are you alright?" Her best friend and old roommate almost yelled. That was about when Jess registered who it was. "No one has heard from either you or Sam for three days and you haven't been answering your phones!" Lola sounded legitimately worried.

"Oh yeah. We're fine. Well, I'm fine. Sam's had a fever for three days and it's been pretty tough. But I think he is on the mend." Jess mumbled. It was a testament to how well Lola knew her that she understood any of it.

"Oh you poor thing, then I won't come in and wake him," Lola's voice dropped to a whisper and her eyes darted around the dark room behind Jess. Her eyes quickly jumped back to the pale girl with dark rings around her eyes and she frowned, gently gripping Jess's arm. "But, I am going to bring you a proper meal. Does Sam feel up for food yet or am I only serving one."

"Ummmm, Dean'll need sompthin' too." Jess mumbled sleepily. She wondered how much he would eat. If he was anything like Sam, when Sam got hungry…

"Who?" Lola asked suddenly worried for Jess's mental health.

"Hum? What? Nothing, I think I said to bring him some too." Jess felt her face flush and covered it up with a massive yawn. Sam wouldn't appreciate her sharing the news that he had a brother. "Sorry I'm really tired I literally just woke up from the first sleep I've gotten in three days and I'm still feeling pretty trashed." She rubbed her eyes and grinned "Plus I haven't had any coffee yet."

Lola laughed suitably placated. "Ok silly girl, you get some more sleep and take care of that ridiculously tall boyfriend of yours," _And his ridiculously tall brother apparently _Jess thought remembering the six feet two inches of brother on her doorstep the day before… "…you a dish of something in a few hours for dinner." _Oh wait, _she had totally missed most of what Lola had said…

"Dinner? What about lunch?" Jess asked still groggy.

"Sweetie, it's three-thirty in the afternoon." Lola giggled feeling incredibly sorry for her turned-around-backwards-inside-out friend.

"Oh damn." Jess muttered and laughed unsteadily like a lunatic when she sounded just like Dean in her mind, again. Lola shook her head and kissed Jess on the cheek. "Get some more sleep lovie, I'll call you when I bring dinner. I'm gonna go feed the grape-vine that news that you guys are still alive and well be fine just as soon as Sam kicks this."

"Hey thanks, and thanks for stopping by Lola."

"No prob. We weren't sure what to do but four days seemed excessive." Lola grinned wickedly, "We thought maybe you too were just having the time of your life until you didn't show yesterday for Monday classes."

Jess blinked sleepily and worked for a moment to decipher Lola's words. "Oh, yeah, well… Night – I mean – morning – um, uuhh – afternoon Lola." Jess garbled and shut the door.

Lola's laugh came through the door clearly before she walked away.

Jess stumbled her way over to the bedroom door and peaked in. It was dark – much too dark to see anything or anyone.

"Hey Sweetheart, you should go back to bed, you were practically speaking Chinese to Lola just now." Dean quipped from the chair beside Sam.

"Is he ok?" Jess asked trying to peal her eyelids back open to focus on Dean in the dimly lit room.

"Yeah." Dean's calm reassured her better than his words. She jumped embarrassingly (if she had been awake enough to be embarrassed) when she suddenly felt his calloused hand gently touch her arm and steer her away from the doorway to what she assumed must have been the couch (if she had been awake enough to remember if they even had a couch.)

"Relax Jess, Sam's fine." Dean's voice rumbled from somewhere above her.

"Hmmmmm kay." She murmured before dropping off like a rock.

* * *

When the sounds of knocking on the door sounded once again through the apartment and woke Jess up, she quickly picked up on the fact that time had to have past as it was certainly dark outside – that and she felt like a human being again. This time around she didn't knock over the lamp (although she slipped on one of the books)

She fumbled with the lock for a moment before swinging the door open. Three girls grouped together outside her door, this time there were.

"Hey guys." She smiled still blinking the last traces of sleep out of her eyes and unconsciously brushing her mess of hair away from her face, again.

"Hey you look slightly better." Lola teased. "Can we put this stuff in the kitchen for you? We will be really quiet so as not to disturb Sam."

"Sure." Jess eyed the dished hungrily as her stomach rolled hungrily.

"Hey it's good to see you even if you do look like someone out of "Walking Dead" and I am not talking about Beth Greene – although your hot enough, you don't look alive enough."

"Hey thank Sylvie." Jess laughed confused. Sam and she didn't watch Walking Dead… Apparently he didn't like Zombie stories.

"I agree, though I would say you are much prettier than any of the characters on that show, even if you do currently look like a zombie." The third member poked at Jess's shoulder. Lola rolled her eyes. Nerds and their fandoms – Unbelievable! "Did you know that Sylvie is writing a "Walking Dead fanfiction for the nerd club? Apparently she thinks she can retell the story better than the actual show writers."

Sylvie grinned. "Of course I can. No one knows a fandom like the fans do. And more often than not, the writers forget things or miss perfect opportunities." She argued lightly.

"Anyway," Lola said nudging past Jess and setting her burden down on the counter. "We brought fruit and salad, a casserole for breakfast tomorrow, Sylvie has the coffee and juice, Danielle has the dinner – wild rice and sausage, and we have apple pie for dessert and ice cream. I also through in a bottle of Tylenol in case you were running low."

"Thanks girls." Jess said with all her heart. "You are such wonderful friends." She gave them each a hug and locked the door behind them. Now to check on the boys.

Again she made her way to the bed room and opened the door. Via the light pouring in from the living room and the bathroom (that hadn't been on earlier,) she could make out two shapes pressed together on the bed. As Jess crept closer, she became aware of twin green slits reflecting the light at her like glittering emeralds. Dean was stretched out on the bed next to a sleeping Sam, who was dressed in his brother's well-worn, soft, "Deep Purple" shirt. Sam was cocooned from the waist down in their fuzziest blanket and looked much more comfortable then he had looked earlier. His face where it rested on Dean's shoulder, seemed to have reclaimed some of its healthy color. They were perfectly still, aside from the steady rise and fall of their chests moving in tandem and the equally steady movements of Dean's fingers threading through Sam's long curling hair. Sam's fingers were twisted loosely in Dean's shirt on his chest. He was drooling peacefully into his brother's shoulder, and Dean didn't seem to mind in the least.

Jess was so completely caught up in the picture that she didn't dare open her mouth and spoil it.

"Heard voices." Dean's whisper floated to her after a bit. He rolled his face away from Sam's hair and looked directly up at her.

"Friends. They brought dinner. Do you want to eat? It's nine pm." Jess whispered back.

"Yes and no. Yes, I wanna eat; no, I don't want to get up." Dean retorted.

_I don't blame you. _She replied in her head. _If I was you, I would never move again. He looks more relaxed than he has looked ever. _Jess grinned but didn't voice her thoughts, instead she replied. "He looks like a great big baby."

"He IS a great big baby." Dean replied still just as softly as before, somehow he managed to work fond annoyance into a whisper. Jess was suitably impressed. "He just tries to look mature part of the time." Dean finished flashing her a cheeky smirk. "I'll grab a quick shower and meet you for dinner."

"Okay. Towels are under the sink."

"Yeah, I found them earlier. Thanks."

"You too." Jess replied heart-fully.

Dean carefully extracted himself from Sam's grasp and settled him against a pillow instead. Sam's face scrunched up in displeasure and his fingers tightened in Dean's shirt. "Sleep fuzz-ball." Dean whispered to the drooling monkey of a brother. He carded his fingers through Sam's hair and gently pealed his fingers loose. Sam tossed against the pillow. " 'ean." He muttered without waking.

"Still here, Sammy." Dean replied still brushing back Sam's hair. "Jess is here too. You gonna say hi?"

"J'ss." Sam sounded almost confused.

Jess smiled and bent over the bed pressing a kiss to Sam's forehead. "Hey Baby." Her fingers replaces Dean's as he backed. She waited, just until Sam settled down and Dean returned with a change of clothes and disappeared into the bathroom, before she headed out to prep the already prepped dinner.

When Dean appeared a few minutes later, his damp hair was trying to decide whether it wanted to cling to his head or stick up in spiky tufts – it seemed to have settled on a little of both. He was wearing grey sweats and a Metallica T and seemed perfectly relaxed.

"So, this is dinner, serve yourself however much you want. I doubt there will be a shortage. People will be bringing me food now until we come out of hibernation I am sure. There is fruit." She laughed at look on Dean's face. "Ok so I won't bother waiting time pointing out the salad. And I have pie for AFTER dinner." She laughed again stressing the last part when Dean's smile threatened to swallow his face whole. "They brought juice and coffee, but I have beer in the fridge if you want."

"Beer sounds great." Dean proceeded to load his plate so full she wondered how long it had been since the last time he had eaten.

Dinner took place on the couch.

So did beer and pie, which Dean insisted on eating at the same time. Jess had a generous slice and Dean helped himself to the entire pie pan that was left.

"My word, where do you put all that food?" Jess laughed at last after he had eaten half the casserole and the remaining three-fourths of the pie with ice cream. "And here I was thinking so one could out eat Sam, that is, when he wants to eat."

"Hah! Sam eats like a bird." Dean snarked around a mouthful of pie.

He pushed away the empty dish, washed everything down with a few swigs of beer, and turned to look at Jess thoughtfully.

"You know," she whispered to the dim room without meeting his eyes. "I was so nervous to meet you. I mean I have been in contact with you for months, but the thought of you being here in person. I was so worried you wouldn't approve of me."

"Sweetheart, if I didn't approve of you, I would have kicked you out before you moved in." Dean's smile was contagious despite his words. "Anyway, you proved your metal when you stayed steady at his side despite the fever-induced-delirious-murder attempt." Dean finished his beer and popped open another without hesitation.

"Beer, pie, enough food to feed an army, sarcasm – you're nothing like I pictured. You're exactly the opposite of how Sam usually is."

Dean's eyes darkened familiarly, and she suddenly knew she was wrong, they were far more alike than she could possibly comprehend.

"What happened between you two?"

"An argument." Dean replied to quickly and she instantly knew that wasn't all. She was getting a psychology degree and she could almost see his mental walls slamming back up into place. She quickly decided to back off. Whoever and whatever the argument was, it probably wasn't between them and it probably wasn't the cause of the separation.

"Must've been one hell of an argument to keep you two away from each other. He talks about you as if you were the sun itself sometimes. Only when he thinks I'm not listening, though. Mostly when he is petting the stupid cat."

"Cat?" Dean's surprise was as obvious as the pain of the reminder that Sam cared but didn't call.

"Yeah." She felt her heart soften towards the man beside her as emotions danced lightly through his eyes. "It's a stray. He told me the story about Raggedy Ann, so now we call it Raggedy Andy. Andy knows more about you than anyone. When Sam gets in a funk, sometimes he'll sit on the landing outside door and pet the cat and talk about Dean."

Dean looked down at his hands but she could see the glint of tears in his eyes. "I miss him." He murmured and knocked back the rest of his beer. "Not the cat, I miss Sam." Apparently he had no trouble holding his liquor, Jess decided, he was already on his fourth beer for the night on top of the Jim Bean he had found and talked her into a few shots.

She knew why he was doing it. He was getting her to drink with him, the stress of Sam's sickness had tensed her up, and he was simply helping her unwind as well. Not to mention that fact that he was there with his brother and Sam wasn't even going to remember. She was just starting into her third beer, she could already feel the buzz coming. It felt good, and since he was still drinking, she kept drinking with him.

"What do you do?"

"I'm a car mechanic." He replied as if programed.

"That's awesome." She replied despite the obvious lack of information. "I think I remember Sam telling Andy something like that. You're a great brother, Dean. I don't have any brothers, I have two older sisters and two younger sisters, and a slue of brothers-in-law now but no brothers. I always wondered what it was like."

"Ya well, I'm crappy at it, obviously, or he wouldn't have left." Dean was starting to slur slightly as he popped his fifth beer and his eyes betrayed his discomfort at where this conversation was going.

Jess almost stopped there, but she couldn't. He was here now, and he couldn't just hang up on her, so she pushed her luck to make him listen. Settling her shoulder against his, she continued. "I don't think so. You drove three hours at the drop of a hat to nurse your sick little brother back to health. Plus, you dodged a bullet aimed at your head, peeled him off the floor in his sweaty delirium, and calmed him down fasted than I have ever been able too." Jess sat up and turned to face Dean lifting his chin until he was looking directly at her. "I know he loves you, and that's what counts." Gently she leaned over and kissed his forehead. He made no motion either of acceptance or rejection of her words. Her deft hands prodded gently at his shoulder before she let them drift to twist his short sandy hair between her fingers.

"He has you now." Dean mumbled at last still not looking at her.

"But he will always need you in a way he will never need me. I don't understand it, I never will." She replied "But I do accept it now."

Dean didn't look completely convinced when he left her on the couch to take the dishes to the kitchen.

"You should get some more sleep. Sam's fever is definitely broken but he is still pretty out of it. I also have his gun right now, so you can go in there if you want without any fear of attack." Dean said from somewhere inside the dishwasher. His attempt at humor fell flat on her ears.

"No, I'm good on the couch for one more night." Jess replied. "You take care of your brother." Dean abruptly reappeared in her line of sight. His face was an odd mixture of uncertainty and thanks. But without a word, he vanished into the bedroom.

Jess smiled to herself as she closed her eyes. Life was going to be alright. Sam was going to be okay. And Someday, perhaps, even Dean would be okay. But she doubted that either one of them would be completely okay without the other.

* * *

"Jess?"

Jess fairly shot off the couch at Sam's garbled voice. "Wha're you doing on the couch?"

_Sleeping, duh. Where's Dean? Why are you up? _All that she managed to say, however, was "Hey Baby, how are you feeling?"

"Crappy, like I got put through a ringer." He grimaced at the lights and rubbed his head with a pale trembling hand. "What happened?"

"You were sick babe." Jess fumbled her way around the spotless living room still trying to reconcile it with the book wrecked, crumb-covered, beer bottle infested pit from the night before. Then she came to a dead halt. There was no bag dropped haphazardly on the ground by the couch. Sam was wearing an apparently freshly washed, skillfully patched, Def Leppard t-shirt…

Dean was gone.

She knew it without even needing to look. Of course he was gone. Dean was like that. Once again, he had hung up the phone before she could say goodbye.

"Hey you kay?" Sam's gentle touch startled her. So did the worried expression in his searching chocolaty eyes.

"Yeah, I'm good. I was just suddenly hit by the weight of the past five days. You look great, baby." She kissed him long and hard hoping to distract him from her fumbling confused hurt.

"I think I was delirious, did I try to shoot you?" Sam mumbled, turning a bright shade of embarrassment, as he picked at the new stitches that were patching his shirt.

"Yeah." She laughed. "You tried, but you thankfully didn't. I escaped too quickly for that."

"I'm really sorry, Jess." His empty hands were clenching and unclenching at his side.

"Don't worry, it's all good." She soothed easily.

"I guess even delirious I wasn't really trying, you would probably be dead if I had." He murmured. Jess could read between his words; _How did you survive me trying to kill you? Who helped?_

"Maybe you're not that good when you're flopping like a fish out of water." Jess teased.

Sam fidgeted uneasily in front of her. A question was obviously on the tip of his tongue, but it was a full five minutes before he finally blurted it out.

"Was my brother here?" His eyes jumped desperately, looking everywhere but at her and she was insanely grateful, she wasn't certain her poker face could stand up to his scrutiny.

"You never told me you had a brother." She said putting what she hoped was the right amount of surprise into her voice. "I think you might be delirious still." She laughed.

He shrugged her hands off his shoulder and his eyes met hers. "Dean. Dean is my brother, and I could have sworn he was here. I know I didn't dream it. I couldn't have dreamed it, the pillow even smells like him!"

"Baby, I would have known if someone was here." Jess argued softly. She desperately hoped he couldn't see her hammering heart.

"Did you fix my shirt?" he asked pointedly.

"No." Jess answered easily. _You should tell him, Jess. Let him believe that perhaps his brother forgives him, that they can repair this broken relationship. He wants it so bad. They both want it. Don't tell him all you know, just let him wonder._

"Then who did?" Sam asked several minutes later when she gracefully dumped him on the bed fever soaked bed where the scent of Dean still lingered.

"I don't know baby, you pulled your gun and I fled the room, when I came back the next day, your fever was broken and you were asleep in bed." It wasn't all the truth, but it wasn't a lie either making it easier to play a poker face.

Sam eyed her thoughtfully trying to see what she was hiding – if she was hiding anything. "No one came through the door?"

"It was locked baby. I was on the couch I would have woken up. I did wake up when friends brought food. You scared me pretty bad with the gun, I wasn't going to let just anyone through the door."

Sam's eyes drifted to the window and a small smile graced his lips. Hope poured into his eyes lighting them up with curious wonder even as she watched before his kissed her lips. "I'm really sorry for scaring you. Next time I'll put the gun away if I think I'm getting sick." (Not that Jess actually believed that…) "I'm starved babe. Breakfast?"

"In the kitchen." She replied "Stay here and I'll bring you some."

There was no sign of Dean in the kitchen either, she doubted there would be, but still, it kinda hurt. That is, until she almost doubled over in laughter when she realized the basket on the counter was several fruits poorer then it had been the night before. Dean. Fruit. Hilarious!

Sam was unnerved by her laughter when she returned but she brushed his inquiry off with something about Lola's and Sylvie's love of jokes.

When Sam sacked out for a nap that afternoon (still exhausted from his run with a killer fever), Jess settled down on the couch and tapped Mac's number.

"Hey Dean. It's Jess. You left. I mean obviously, you know that, but still. I think I understand why, I wish you could have seen Sam's face though. He was so sure he hadn't dreamed you. He was SO sure, and I just couldn't break his heart. I told him that I had crashed in the living room and the next day, he was in bed and his shirt was mended – which was really sweet of you by the way. He looked so hopeful at the thought that maybe you had come. Please Dean. Let him back into your life for both your sakes. But until then, mums the word. Thank you so, so much. Take care of yourself, I'll take care of Sam while you're gone." That was so chick-flicky she was pretty sure it would take Dean five tries at least to get all the way through it.

She clicked off the phone and sat back. This time she knew he wouldn't call her back. That hurt too. But she did understand, she understood the moment she had seen them together on the floor, they loved each other, but they were broken. It would take time. She could live with that. She could give them time and love them both in the meanwhile. Jess smiled.

She could wait on her broken men.

* * *

**That's all for now folks! I hope you liked it!**

**I'll be posting another chapter within the next six days. (I try my very hardest not to go longer than six days.)**

**Review Lovies, review. It is all the payment we writers desire.**

**~Kiliana**


	10. Moment in Time

Sorry friends. I know I try to post every six days or so. I haven't finished fixing the next chapter (I wrote a few but need to fill in some space and time gaps before I post them... oops.) I'll post again here is a day or three when I fit writing in around the holiday. Happy thanksgiving (Oh YEAH! I'm going to write a thanksgiving special...) thanks lovies.

~Kiliana

* * *

_"Oh Sammy, You're such a lovely boy! Thank you so much for the roses!" she had been fairly glowing when she woke up to a romantically inclined boyfriend one random morning. _

_"Just thinking of you, baby." He had laughed and kissed her passionately. _

_"Why, what happened, why are you buttering me up." She was half-serious, half-joking – well, okay more worried than she hoped she was letting on._

_"Nothing baby, you just have been really down for the past few days, midterms are wearing you out more than usual. I figured I would lighten up your day."_

_Jess had laughed and scrambled into his arms. "I love you, Sam." She said without really thinking._

_"I love you more, sweetheart." He replied. Suddenly Dean's gravelly voice that had been lacking from her life for over four weeks, rang crystal clear through her head. "Sweetheart." Only Dean called her sweetheart. _

_Jess drew sharply back away from Sam, her face looked confused and almost hurt. He was most assuredly confused. "Why did you call me that? You never call me that, only D-" she stuttered to a stop and gaped at him like a fish for a full minute._

_"What?" he asked caught off guard. "What'd I do?" God help the poor man, he sounded scared._

_Jess couldn't help it. She had almost let it slip, her secret – the one and only – she knew his brother. And she missed him. Oh she missed her big brother. She had called him twice and he hadn't called back. Jess felt her gut clench and wracking sobs forced themselves around the lump in her throat. Collapsing into his arms she sobbed and sobbed, headless of his terrified frantic pleas for clarity. _

_"Don't hate me, I'm sorry. whtatdidIdo? whatdidIsay? –" Sam was on repeat but she couldn't answer._

_When at last she cried every tear in her body into Sam's collared shirt. She answered him in a small voice. "Please don't call me Sweetheart, and I won't call you Sammy. Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies." It was wretched. Truly wretched that they only names they refused to use – the only names they couldn't stand – where endearments from the same man. They were names only he could use. What a world. What a wretched world. And surprise, I guess I'm not out of tears after all, she decided and burst into a fresh round._

Sam never asked, she never said. The snafu that morning went into the closet along with the mended shirt, and the name Dean. It was never spoken of, but never forgotten.

"Hey, its Jess. PLEASE PLEASE call me! I'm freaking out and I had a melt-down on your unsuspecting brother this morning. Dean, please call. Oh dean... Now it me sitting around all nostalgic cuddling with that terrible faded T-shirt while your brother is at class. But ya I know, no chick-flick. I get it. You could let me know if your alive... bye Dean."

* * *

Short I know, Don't give up on me.

~Kiliana


	11. Thanksgiving

As promised a Thanksgiving special. And you can **all blame IdreamofIvan for the delay** in the continuing story…I had to do some rewriting. (Everyone join me on this: Thank you IdreamofIvan) Complain all you want. If you want a hint, go read the reviews from IdreamofIvan and try to figure out just what I might be adding. Ha! Chew on that one for a while.

Happy Thanksgiving people. I decided to just throw this story in, out of the blue, and spent last night writing it. I hope you like it!

I responded to your reviews at the bottom by the way, threw in a spoiler or two…

~Kiliana

* * *

Jess squawked and slapped Sam with the dirty spatula. "What the hell!" she laughed, doubling over in his arms while he continued to tickle her despite the cookie dough smear on his previously clean polo.

"Happy Thanksgiving. I half expected you to still be asleep when I got home." He laughed releasing her and lounging his considerable length of body against the counter. "Mmmmmm." He swiped a generous finger-full of whipped-topping off the nearest pie and earned another slap and a healthy scolding. "Out of the kitchen you monster." Jess shoved at him – albeit kindly – and herded the giant first grader out. "Leave my pies alone. They are for the party tonight."

"But Jess, can't I eat one now." He whined still first grader worthy, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "They would never know and what they don't know can't hurt them." He almost cringed at how wrong that sounded knowing what he grew up doing, but he just as quickly shoved that thought away – no reason to spoil the holiday.

"Shut it, Babe! I need four pies and you just helped yourself to the prettiest. No cookies for you 'til later." She flounced her way back to the kitchen and plopped herself stubbornly between her boy and the pies and cookies, bread, and fruit salad, and… Sam's brain stopped working, over-whelmed by the sheer deliciousness before him.

"Not fair." He grumbled.

He got his cookie.

Jess was like putty in his hands.

Putty with a spatula covered in cookie dough.

After his stolen delicacy, he had to get a shower… but it was worth it.

And, the party was still a success even one cookie short (proving Sam's point that Jess didn't know anything about cookies other them how to cook them perfectly).

The pies were also a success, including the one that Sam swiped whole and downed by himself in a corner, safe from prying grubby fingers. _In honor of you brother! _He cheered in his head before digging into the whole pie with a spoon.

There was plenty of laughing and drinking and merry making and eating and staggering and stumbling and running into things on the way home.

Sam dropped haphazardly onto the couch that night as Jess settled the wobbly stack of pie pans and bowls in the sink.

"Happy Thanksgiving." He offered with a smile when she joined him, offering him a large glass of water.

"You too." She whispered back. "Best Thanksgiving I think I have ever had."

Sam smiled, eyes darkening with memory for a moment. "Yeah," he agreed unconvincingly.

"Uh, huh. I'll believe that when the cows fly home. Spill baby. It's not like your brother is that big of a secret anymore and I am just dying to hear a story." Jess teased poking him in the arm.

Sam chuckled and flinched away. "Whatever, you probably would think it's dumb anyway."

"Try me." Jess dared. Dean was certainly not dumb as for as she was concerned – not that she could actually say as much without raising questions.

"Fine. Well I think I was eight and Dean was twelve. Dad was gone on a business trip and Dean intended to give us a Thanksgiving if it killed him, despite the fact that we were in some god-forsaken motel room in an equally god-forsaken town in the middle of Tennessee."

Sam ran a hand through his hair and sat back staring at the wall. "Damn, that was a long time ago. Come to think of it, it actually did almost kill him."

"What happened?" Jess asked prying as gently as her curiosity would allow.

"I don't remember how he did it, but we had a real turkey. It was the first time ever that I actually had real turkey. It was amazing! And Dean just about burned the motel down cooking it. Oh but it was good."

Sam eyed Jess thoughtfully for a moment deciding where to begin the story. "So Dean decided to barbeque us a turkey, he must have swiped the turkey somewhere and the barbeque sauce but we didn't have a pan to cook it in when he was getting ready that afternoon, so he figured he might as well use a cardboard box."

"Oh no, did he do it?" Jess asked horrified, trying not to laugh at the idea of cooking in cardboard.

"Yep. He fished one out from behind the liquor store. Our turkey smelled funny after sitting in that."

"Gross."

"No, it gets better. So he got us a pie and some soda, and this half frozen turkey and barbeque and brings it all back in this half crushed box – I swear he is a much better cook now then he used to be, he can whip up a killer casserole in no time flat, but, back to the story – so the turkey goes into the box and he drenches the thing in sauce. He didn't even clean it or anything. You know, in hindsight, I'm really surprised we didn't die from that meal."

"This sounds like the thanksgiving horror story of the century."

"Nah, of the millennium." Sam agreed with a fond smile at the terrible history. "Then, for good measure, he fishes out – from who knows where – one of Dad's whiskey bottles and pours a generous helping onto the poor bird as well. I am sure who ever packaged the thing for the market wouldn't have butchered it if he had known what my brother was going to do to it."

Jess seemed to agree if her facial expressions were anything to go by.

"Anyway. Since he had no idea how hot to cook it, Dean turns the oven on to 400 and waits for it to heat up. The box was soggy by the time he slopped it into the oven. He burned himself several times in the process. I am pretty sure the only reason the box didn't catch fire right away was because of all the barbeque sauce on it. It caught pretty fast in the end, though. Before we know it there were giant flames filling the oven. You know how in cartoons the oven door rattles and there are flames with angry faces on them shooting out from around the door? It was basically just like that. And Dean was cussing like a sailor the whole time – I know my dad would not have been pleased had he been there but I was way too scared to be properly shocked. So Dean opens the oven door, dodging the flames, and reaches in with his bare hands and pulls the flaming cardboard remains out of the oven, setting fire to the oven mitts, three towel, and to the floor in the process. It is pretty funny in hind sight. There was my brother stomping on burning linoleum and using already burning towels to try and smother the fire while I was perched on the counter screaming my lungs out."

"Oh my word! Were you both okay?" Jess asked not sure whether to be horrified or amused at the story.

Oh I was fine, Dean got the fire out and closed the oven door. After that he pulled the rug by the door to cover the huge melted glob of linoleum floor before he even felt his hands. They were burned almost to blistering all the way to his elbows and his face was pretty singed too. Since Dad was gone we couldn't exactly go to the hospital without getting in trouble with CPS so I lathered his arms with whatever cream I could find in the house and wrapped them up really good. He was in agony, but he finished Dad's whiskey and felt much better." Sam grinned at Jess sheepishly.

"Oh I bet. What kind of a father leaves his children in a motel alone on Thanksgiving." Jess felt suddenly rankled, and not only for Sam's sake. She felt a little possessive about both boys if she was completely honest with herself and it physically hurt to think of her Dean burning his arms severely trying to give his brother a decent Thanksgiving while her little Sam had to wrap the burns by himself.

"My kind of a father." Sam rushed over the words, grimaced at a memory, and plunged back into his story. "So Dean had to instruct me how to prep the pie, and I set the table and about two hours later Dean fished the turkey out of the oven, oven rack and all. (I had to redo his bandaging later, stubborn idiot.) He dropped the turkey right on the counter, which had the rack shape melted into it after – but we never talked about that… It was the best damn turkey I have ever eaten, Jess!" Sam sat back and laughed.

"The skin was so tough it took my brother twenty minutes hacking and tearing at it to get to the meat, but the meat was so good and juicy and tender and bursting with flavor. Neither of us had ever had turkey before. Oh, it was _so_ good! The pie was half flopped, the soda was room temperature, and we were eating a turkey cooked in a cardboard box. Dean had burned every kitchen towel and oven mitt, melted the floor and the counter, caked the inside of the oven with black ash and goop, and his arms were wrapped to the elbows: but, it was the best Thanksgiving dinner of my life. We did have to leave the windows open for the duration of our stay, though, because the stench was so bad."

Both Jess and Sam were laughing heartily at the story, and both were nursing a slight hatred for the absent father and admiration for the older brother.

"But Dean, his hands were okay right?" Jess asked suddenly unable to recall whether or not Dean's hands seemed injured when she had met him.

"Oh yeah. Dean's as tough as nails. It takes an act of god to knock that stubborn idiot off his feet." Sam chuckled and drained the last of his water setting the glass down heavily. "Sometimes I miss him really bad, and other times, I'm just really glad I don't have to clean up the inevitable disasters that follow him around. Although, I am afraid that if I don't, no one will and one of these days I'm gonna get a call because he killed himself cooking a damn turkey." Sam snorted wryly trying to hide the sudden panic in his eyes.

Jess frowned. _Oh Dean. Why won't you just call me? We worry for a reason…both of us worry._

Sam shook himself and stood up. "Anyway, I told _way _more of that story then I intended and I am going to have the mother of all headaches tomorrow morning, so I am going to crash." …and crash he did.

Jess crept out into the landing and flipped open her phone.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Beep.

_Oh yeah, big surprise there. _"Hey, it's Jess. You _could _call me and let me know you're alright. I would hate to find out you killed yourself cooking turkey which I discovered is a legitimate possibility tonight. Seriously, what kind of idiot cooks in a cardboard box? I was thoroughly amused and you will be surprised to hear that Sam willingly shared the memory with me, of his own accord, I didn't even have to threaten. I know, I think I even saw a cow flying past the window… He misses you. So do I... …But really? You almost burned down a motel with a turkey. That's impressive! Anyway, if you don't call, Happy Thanksgiving Dear. Sam and I love you – don't roll your eyes because it is true, he does – and I hope you call one of these days."

Jess clicked the phone shut and glanced up at the crescent moon. "Dean." She breathed. "Please be okay."

* * *

Til next time.

The next chapter is almost complete and I will be posting it early next week at the latest. Stay tuned for more: Next up – Dean gets his turn being the hurt one. Because who doesn't like to beat on the poor boys a little (okay a lot but shhhh...) anyone want to throw in a few prompts?

I have a REALLY nice "Hurt!Dean" coming, then a "fainting!Sam", oh and heads up for some more characters… one in particular who I am very fond of, and you can probably solve this riddle if I say, Dean and Sam and ..., and you check out my history of favorite people to write about...

Shoot me an idea and I'll see what I can do with it.

**CatishAngel07**: Let's just say I have plans… if I say too much, no one will keep reading… however, you tell me, would you continue to read to story if I veered off of the canon or not? I am not saying that I will, but I might…

**Chrisbcritter73**: I basically bang my head against the wall all the time over the sheer amount of stupidity they do to hold onto their macho card and to avoid being "chick-flick"… That said, this story is not solely Dean and Jess interacting. I do have some Dean and Sam interacting coming up soon.

**Thoughts? Comment? Reviews?** Bring it on lovies, little sickly me and my little sickly muse are hungry (and spending a ton of time writing )

~Kiliana.

**Happy Thanksgiving Folks!**


	12. Smoke on the Water (part 1)

Yeah!** part one of a building three parter... maybe more**. It's crazy long already. I'll hopefully be able to post with more regularity for the near future. So, I need some help. I have a pretty good idea of where I am taking this story, but I am going to ask you a question for opinions at the bottom. Thanks!

**IdreamofIvan**: I think you are going to like this arc. Yes it is all your fault, but it is a good thing. However, the biggest thing I had to change from own of your comments is in chapter part two of this story-line. and a worried/over-worked/stressed Sam is really fun. (coming soon on Sam's Brother...)

**Cindar**: Thank you for the feed back. I too like to send their poor lives to hell... I think it is a good thing I don't write the TV show... they die enough as it is.

**CatishAngel07**: EEK! Thank you so much! you make me soooo happy. I'm so glad you like it! I really am. Poor Jess won't be able to breath she is going to be so buried in their family drama.

**Wynjara**: Haven't we all. I basically took the worst cook experience in my life and exaggerated it like crazy. I put a hot dog on my Dad's grill in a cardboard box once when I was little and it caught fire, he didn't notice because my uncle was talking to him... yeah and burning the floor... done that. Haha I just love the idea of a twelve-year-old who has literally never cooked or eaten a home-cooked meal since he was four (which is REALLY sad) cooking a full thanksgiving meal.

**Dean's Worshiper:** I am SO glad you reviewed. I love it when you review because you always read the update so fast that while I am chewing my fingernails over the recent update, I see your review and I am sooo happy.

Anyway, I love writing Jess... she is so much fun!.. Enjoy lovies!

~Kiliana

* * *

Jess couldn't take it any longer, she was going crazy with worry. It had been two months since she had called begging for help. Two month since he had shown up in their home just to vanish like a wraith. Two months since the light of hope that they could reconcile had been lit in her heart. Two months and not a word. She didn't even pause long enough to feel bad for calling for a seventh – or maybe a zillionth – time, she hadn't really kept track of how many times she had called him since.

The phone rang, once. Twice.

"Hello." A gruff completely unfamiliar voice growled out tersely.

"Wha – wh – who is this?" Jess stuttered blinking at the display to reread the number.

"Look lady, I'm sorry the boy left you hanging, deal with it. It's over, done, and now is REALLY not a good time you idjit, so get off the damn phone and don't call back." The line when dead. Jess stared in shock at the phone. No way. What the HELL just happened.

She checked the number, then double checked the number. With a huff she hit call.

"WHAT DID I SAY!" the voice almost yelled.

"Hey listen up, ass!" Jess started, surprising even herself with her voice tone. "I don't know who the Hell you are, but you had better put Dean Bloody Winchester on the damn phone or I swear I will kick your ass to Canada – and back!"

There was a rather impressively pregnant pause.

"How are you?"

"I'm his seester!" she drawled. "I'm Smoke on the Water." She added Dean's I'm a friend code word for good measure just in case it worked. "And I am calling Dean. Put him on the bloody phone you bloody idiot." The silence that greeted her was incredibly rewarding is a twisted Dean-ish way.

"Whhhhaaaaat?" the other voice finally croaked. "Alright, you know him. I'll give ya that and I'll listen."

"Yeah, like hell you will. Who are you? Where is Dean?"

"I'm Bobby, and you _are_ going through me to get to Dean. Is that clear, girl!?"

"Crystal." Jess snapped, "I'm Jess. I'm his brother's girlfriend. Now let me talk to Dean."

"Jess?" The bobby dude sounded incredulous. "Bloody Hell! Did Sam tell you to call…"

"No. The stubborn idiots won't pick of their stupid phones and call each other. They would rather waste away wishing things would change. I met Dean about a year ago, via Sam's contact list. Sam doesn't know I know Dean. And it is going to stay that way."

"Jess." Bobby sounded like he wanted to laugh and cry and do neither because it was too "chick-flicky" – so – definitely an acquaintance of the Winchesters. "I can't believe it. I am now perfectly satisfied that Sam knows what he is doing. Stupid idjit got at least one thing right." He sounded almost fatherly.

Jess felt her anger bleed as he spoke, and it left her feeling worried – bone weary and worried. "What happened Bobby? Is Dean okay!"

The pause that followed was too long. Much too long. Jess's heart plummeted into her gut and froze.

"Don't you dare lie to me Bobby, I get enough of that from Dean and Sam. You tell me the truth damn it!" her voice was quivering so hard it certainly ruined her tough girl act so she dropped it completely. "Oh please tell me he is alive, he is ok." She squeaked

Jess felt herself slowly crumble to the floor as Bobby finally answered her question.

"He is alive. Barely. He's here in the hospital. They put him in an induced coma when he became violent without actually waking up. He was ripping needles and stitches out. He was completely delirious and not even awake." Bobby took a deep breath, more to steady the shaking sniffling girl hidden from his sight on the other end of the phone.

"What happened?"

"He was attacked. He went hunting and the rangers found him the next morning almost dead at the bottom of a ravine. They are saying it looked like a bear shredded his chest broke several ribs and his left arm and collarbone, his cheekbone is also fractured from when he hit the ground or something. Internal bleeding wasn't bad enough to kill him over night, but he did land on a tree branch and impaled it… Jess you don't really what to know all this?"

"Impaled it through what? Please I need to know."

"Through his chest. Collapsed his left lung – branch staunched the flow until they found him. Jess, it aint perdy. He has a fifty-fifty chance at the best."

"How… how long has he…" Jess stammered. "I mean I-I-I… He didn't-hasn't answered the phone. Please tell me it-"

"Yesterday, Jess. He got mauled yesterday afternoon. He has been stable since this morning at three."

"Then where has he been for the past two months?" Jess asked quietly.

"Out of service on a special job for the first month, laid up with a couple of cracked ribs for a few weeks, and then this hunting trip." Bobby replied calmly.

"He didn't answer." Jess stammered.

"He didn't know what to say." Bobby replied.

"Where… Where is he?" Jess struggled to make her voice stop shaking.

"St. Peter's hospital in Helena Montana." Bobby replied. "Don't come. You don't need to come."

"Yes – yes I do Bobby. He is all the brother I have. I'm coming. I'll be there tonight." She hung up the phone and dropped it bonelessly into her lap. After a moment it rang again. _Oh no. Please nothing bad…_

"Bob-hy?" she hiccupped.

"His name is Dean White when you ask for his room."

"Thanks." She replied numbly. The phone dropped from her fingers. Why couldn't she stop shaking? It seemed like an eternity before Sam's keys scraped at the lock.

"Hey Babe, I'm back. How are you?... Jess, what is wrong? What happened? Are you hurt? Who is hurt? Oh Baby, you need to lay down, Jess what-" Sam was ramping up into full blown mother-hen-mode.

"Stoh-hop. Please." She begged pushing away slightly. "I'm fine, I'm fine. I just got a call that my – my." She hand covered her mouth as she started to cry again. "One of m-my best friends is in the hos-hospital and m-m-might be die-ing." She cried. "I'm flying out tonight."

"I'm coming with you." Sam said softly pulling her into his chest.

"No baby, don't. Please, we can't afford two trips, you don't even know her. I'll be fine. I'll be back in a couple days, and I'll call." Jess replied scrubbing a hand over her face and pasting on her bravest smile.

Sam didn't like it, but Jess begged and he agreed. He put her on the next flight out at six. She waved a teary goodbye and turned away. Sam was torn between buying his own ticket and chasing her down and letting her go alone as she seemed to want. In the end, he slowly turned away.

Three hours later Jess found herself standing outside the ICU at St. Peter's hospital.

"Yes, as I already explained to this lady over here, I'm here to see Dean White. He is my brother." He explained.

"I'm sorry ma'am. But visiting hours are over for anyone other than family, and you don't have the same last name."

"Seriously. I don't need to put up with this shit." She exclaimed throwing her hands in exasperation.

"Is there a problem ma'am?" _Security. Just great. Just what I needed._

"Yes sir, these ladies would let me see my brother who is in the ICU. Look, I'm calling Bobby." She glared at the guard daring him to interrupt her call, he must have figured the possibility of her actually being a pissed-off sister overrode the need to toss her out.

The phone rang only once this time. "Jess." Bobby answered Dean's phone.

"Bobby. These lousy people won't let me in to see my brother!" she exclaimed vehemently.

"One moment, hang tight." He replied and hung up.

She did just that. And one very long moment later, a nurse came to get her. "Right this way Jess."

With every step her heart sank further – with every breath her hands shook even harder. _Damn I feel as nervous as I did the first time I met him. Get a grip Jess. Oh God please don't let him die. Let him be okay please._

Dean looked far worse than she could have possibly imagined. His expressive, vibrant face had hollowed and was whiter than the pillow. Dirty blonde hair rested limply along his brow and four days-worth of scruff darkened his freckled face. The dark smudges around his eyes matched the thick mottled bruising and four inches of stitches on the left side of his face. He was intubated, had a line down his nose, and electric leads along his scalp. "Oh Dean!" Jess gasped in horror.

Jess quickly let her eyes take in the rest. Left arm was securely plastered and rested on the bed beside him. His collarbone was wrapped and bandages swathed his chest. White against his white skin, popping out the bruises and blood in a vivid watercolor of black, purple, and green. Jess almost gagged at the tube that appeared to be inserted into the left side of Dean's chest – she didn't even want to know. His right arm rested cold and limp across his stomach. It was bristling with all the needles that couldn't fit in the other heavily bandaged arm.

It was only after she had stood in shock for – perhaps – say – a day, that she remembered about Bobby. He was standing on the far side of the bed and simply watching her. His gruff appearance seemed wilted with sorrow and worry. Haggard and weary with grief and worry, he looked almost as bad as Dean.

"Bobby." She whispered after a few minutes. He nodded in confirmation of her guess. "Can – can I have some time. Alone. With Dean?"

Bobby stepped towards her and ran a hand through his beard.

"You weren't joking girl. You said tonight, I didn't really believe you. You must really like this here idjit." Despite the growl and rough blunt drawl, she could clearly pick the fond love and anguish masked behind his tired mask. She let him take her in, smart knee-high boots over her jeans and a loose dark blue long sleeved shirt with an animal print scarf. She certainly looked the high-society from which he certainly thought she came. If it wasn't for her worried honest eyes and fidgeting movements… Bobby's posture relaxed, he was going to trust her for now.

"Yeah." Her face softened into a fond smile as she watched his hackles settle down. "Only ever seen him in person once, but he has a way of making sure he isn't forgotten."

"Yeah, well, I've caught him talking about you once or twice, without names of course. I think he fancies you something of a little sister, so yeah, you can have some time alone. I trust ya." He said and then, as her eyes welled up with gratitude, he quickly tacked on, "Don't you dare say anything. Waterworks and girls. Bloody circus show." he muttered moving past her.

"Bobby. Get some sleep. I'll stay here tonight." Jess called after him not listening for a reply.

Slowly she sank down at Dean's side. A coffee cup materialized out of thin air beside her. She didn't bother finding out how. The warmth from the cup seeped into her hands and up her arms. She wished she could push it through her heart and into his ice cold features.

But for the beeping monitors, he could have been dead.

Jess leaded towards the eerily pale, waxy face. "Hey Dean. It's Jess. Funny, even when I am sitting right beside you I end up going straight to the answering machine… no you're right, it's not funny at all."

She brushed her fingers across his damp brow, careful to avoid any injuries. "I just wanted you to know that you're not alone. I came to see you. I hope you don't mind too much. I figure you're the kinda guy who likes to call the shots on who he meets when and where, but I think you might be glad I'm here."

Jess fingered the chain around her neck and settled back for the night. "I highly doubt Bobby will be gone too long. But I hope he doesn't come back before he gets a few hours of sleep, he looks strung out. I guess you have that effect on people. We drop everything and come running and them worry ourselves sick. But it's not chick-flick silly, it's because we care, and that is what people do when they care. Besides, I am a chick, so I can get away with telling you."

Dean's monitors didn't change, the steady beep, beep, beep carried on in the still room.

Jess fidgeted. "I went to see one of my sisters in the hospital with I was younger. We had to stay the night and I remember my mother sang us all to sleep. My father never let her sing at home, but this was one time that he didn't matter. The song she sang is called "Good Night my Angel," would you like to hear it?" This time the stillness and silence from the bed hit her hard.

"Okay, I'll sing it for you." She whispered. "Good night my angel time to close your eyes, and save the questions for another day…"

The hours passed along with the stars just beyond the window pane. Jess sang to her freckled boy through the night. When she couldn't sing another note, she cried herself to slumber with her head settled against his chilly side. The movements of nursing staff around her was completely unnoticed.

It was around three in the morning before she roused herself thinking first of her aching back.

"You silly, stupid boy." She whispered rubbing her eyes and reorganizing herself in the chair. "Why couldn't you just not get hurt?" It was silly right, for her to be asking that… It's not like he _knew _that he was going to get hurt. Plus, how often did people actually get mauled by bears? No he hadn't actually sought out the danger… but still. "Wake up Dean, please." She wearily eyed the beeping monitors that broadcasted his continuing survival like a play-by-play review.

The beeping monitors… beeping. _SHIT!_

Jess moved faster than she knew was possible. The red button on the wall was too far for her comfort.

"Dean don't you dare! DON'T YOU DARE! You stupid, lovable, clueless, wonderful, helpless, horrible boy! DON'T DO THIS TO ME!"

The room was swarmed with nurses in the blink of an eye and Jess was "kindly" forced out of the way and out of their minds.

"_Pushing Ativan, in – get him flat – someone call a crash cart – Code red – he isn't breathing – give him a second dose Ativan."_

Jess collapsed against the wall, her eyes glued to the violently seizing body on the bed. The monitors were screaming, red lights blinking announcing the rapidly decaying situation within the pale twitching body.

As fast as it came on, the seizure stopped as the Ativan kicked in.

"_Pulse is thready, intubating now – Call in for a CT and MRI, I need to know what is going on in his head, EKG still shows erratic brain activity – blood pressure is dropping – get him stabilized, we need to go now – He is crashing! Beginning CPR – Administering first shock, Clear – Going to 400 – Clear. – He is back, let's move people. NOW Go – Ron, have the neuro surgeon on call paged immediately."_

The room was a swirl of activity before going blessedly numb and quiet. Jess's coffee was everywhere except her cup, her hands were shaking so badly she couldn't pick up her phone and call Bobby. "Damnit." She curse clumsily reaching for it and spilling the last of her coffee.

"Sweetie, are you okay?" A quiet voice asked.

"hh-hhu? N-n-no! gotta c-call B-Bobby." She stuttered.

"Here, let me, do you have his number?" Jess tried to focus on the nurse's face.

"Yah, it's umm… under M-Mac Roni." She finished. "Inside joke." She added in response to the nurses questioning glance.

The phone rang, once – twice – three time and BEEP.

"Hey this is Dean." Drawled a breathtakingly smooth voice. "Leave your damn message. I'll call if I want."

Beep.

Jess broke down into full body sobs.

"B-B-Booby. G-get t-to the h-hos-pital n-now." She drew in a deep breath. It didn't help much. "H-he's in a b-bad way." She numbly hung up the phone and discovered the nurse had left only to return a moment later with a new cup of coffee.

"Have faith sweetheart." She purred. Jess almost wretched at the sound of Dean's voice in her head saying that name. "He is in the hands of the best."

Jess nodded willing herself to believe. The nurse was gone again. Funny how she couldn't seem to remember her going or coming once.

"Sam." She murmured her mind focusing in that single point. "Gotta call Sam."

* * *

Tada!

So the **question** is this. Okay, obviously my entire story up to the point has been very Jess-centric. We listen to the phone conversations from Jess's side. We learn about the boys when Jess learns. We don't see what Dean does with Sam when Jess isn't in the room... you get the idea. So idea is this. I am obviously bringing more characters into the arc. Bobby for one, maybe John. Should I continue with the Jess's view only, or would you like to get the picture from other people's view. **sneak preview:** the option is do you want to see Sam's reaction to what is happening, from Sam's perspective?... Let me know.

Ooooh and I love me a bit of hurt!Dean. :) and I love me a bit of agsty/protective!Sam...

the **song that Jess sings** is a lullaby I like to sing to babies when I put them to sleep. It is not necessarily a song that she would sing, but it was the one her mother sang so she is partial. it is "Good night my angel" by the Celtic Woman, if you want to look it up.

and medical savvy me... Ativan is the drug used in hospitals that is used to stop seizures.

**Thoughts? comments? reviews?**

thanks a ton lovies

~Kiliana


	13. Smoke on the Water (part 2)

Thank you Thank you so much for your reviews. I love the feedback. John or no John? I kinda hate/love their father… Maybe I should just add him in as a phone call and have Jess intercept it. What do you think?

I have to say thank you all for the thoughts about the story again. So far I have heard a lot of both sides (Jess POV or the boy's POV as well) from private messages and from reviews. I've given it a lot of thought, and since I am in the middle of finishing the next chapter, you are all going to find out what I decided very soon.

Now, remember what I said about rewriting, **IdreamofIvan**, I have to give some of the credit of my addition in the first few lines of this chapter to you. I hope you like it because I really do. I think you'll know what I am talking about. I simply loved your idea.

Oh my gosh! I am so happy you are all reading!

~Kiliana

* * *

**Then:**

"_B-B-Booby. G-get t-to the h-hos-pital n-now." She drew in a deep breath. It didn't help much. "H-he's in a b-bad way." She numbly hung up the phone and discovered the nurse had left only to return a moment later with a new cup of coffee._

"_Have faith sweetheart." She purred. Jess almost wretched at the sound of Dean's voice in her head saying that name. "He is in the hands of the best."_

_Jess nodded willing herself to believe. The nurse was gone again. Funny how she couldn't seem to remember her going or coming once._

"_Sam." She murmured her mind focusing in that single point. "Gotta call Sam."_

**Now:**

* * *

Barely an hour later, Bobby flung open the hospital door with a dull thud. His eyes quickly took in the empty bed and the shuttering huddle of Jess in one of the rickety hospital chairs.

"Where did they take him?" He asked gruffly.

"CT and MRI." She murmured. "We gotta let Sam know."

Bobby sat down heavily in the chair beside her. It groaned painfully under his weight.

"Here. Ya'll want to see this. I found it before you called." He said handing over Dean's phone.

The cool metal of the device landed heavily in her hand like the rock lodged in the pit of her stomach. More than anything she wished for Sam's presence… no, she wished for Dean's then there would be no problem.

Jess numbly thumbed the button to light up the screen. The display showed a message time stamped from about a month and a half before. Short, simple, succinct;

_I don't know how you knew, but thanks._

The name labeling it read, "Sammy."

Dean hadn't replied.

Big surprise there, right…

Jess smiled bitterly through her tears.

"Dean came to help him through a fever." She explained in a whisper.

"I know. He told me 'bout it fer weeks." Bobby ran a hand over his face. "Idjit." He murmured under his breath. "Kept telling me 'bout Sammy and his awesome girl." He nudged her arm gruffly. "He almost called his brother several times, ya know. But, naw, he closed the phone before it rang each time."

"Why?" Jess exclaimed. "Why be so stubborn, why didn't he just call?"

"Kept saying stuff 'bout how Sammy had found his life and he wasn't gonna mess it up."

Jess laughed again, stronger now, but still bitter. "Damn, stubborn, stupid boys!" she exclaimed.

"Yup. You know, sitting here is going to drive me crazy. I'm gonna go see what I can find out. Wanna come?" Bobby growled. He heaved himself to his feet, joints protesting along with the chair, and stalked into the hall. Jess followed him a mere shadow in his wake.

It may have been four in the morning, but Bobby seemed to have a gift for sniffing people out. He also had a knack for getting them to talk…

The doctor's words washed over her numb mind like warm water – she was aware they were speaking, she knew what they were saying, but she couldn't feel a thing. Not a damn thing. Something about swelling in the skull and a craniotomy and the possibility of irreversible brain damage or death. They had lost him three times on the operating table and his lungs kept seizing. Ventilators and something else.

At some point the doctor said something about calling people to say good bye but he didn't repeat it when Bobby looked ready to bash his face in.

Bobby lead Jess back to a chair somewhere to wait. It was blissfully quiet and dim. Jess's boot scratched the floor as she rocked it back and forth.

"Is he going to die?" she whispered finally, shocked to hear how small and scared she sounded to her own ears.

"No." Bobby answered immediately "Dean is a bloody idjit, I'll give you that. But, he is a cussed, stubborn, sonofabitch if I ever have known one. He will fight this with every damn ounce of strength he has."

Jess nodded soundlessly. She held onto Bobby's conviction with all her might. Perhaps if she repeated it to herself enough times she might eventually believe it. Probably not. Slowly she became aware that he was still speaking.

"…used to say that he could have his arm hanging off by a thread and he would say it was a scratch."

"Tis but a flesh wound." Jess whispered her throat clenching with unwelcome laughter.

"Huh?" Bobby looked legitimately confused.

"S'ry." She squeaked. "That just sounded like Dean in my head."

"Dean never says 'tis" Bobby shot back.

"Monty Pytho… never mind" she whispered. "Sam is always quoting them."

"Oh. You idjit kids stuck in your movie lands." Bobby rolled his eyes.

At some point a little later a nurse returned offering to take them to Dean. Honestly, she didn't even need to ask, as if they were going to say no.

They were lead out of the waiting room and back to the ICU. Jess felt her lungs lock up and her hand flew to her mouth, tears spilling unnoticed down her face. If he had looked terrible before, he looked simply ghastly now. He head was wrapped with a clean white bandage his hair shaved away in a few places beneath they sickeningly colorless wrap. His dusting of freckles looked like ink against the ivory of his skin and his bruised face and eyes looked like death itself. There were tubes down his mouth and his nose and wires ran to wherever there was visible skin.

Jess was overcome by a sudden desire to catch the bitter hopelessness of the situation in pastels of green, purple, black, and white. The peacefulness of his face broke her heart. It wasn't until the room began to spin and her vision began to dance that she remembered to breath again.

"What did you do to his head?" Bobby's question sounded more like a threat, but Jess was figuring him out, threatening was his way of sounding worried.

"The swelling in his skull was expected to go down, instead of up. That is what was causing the seizures." The doctor answered. "We needed to bring down the swelling as fast as possible. Because it spiked so quickly we did not have long before the pressure caused damage so we drilled a few holes into his skull to allow the swelling release. We will have to continue to monitor him closely, but I do not think a full craniotomy will be necessary at this point. Don't worry, once the tubs are removed his skull will heal fine."

"Craniotomy, doctor?" Bobby again.

"When a section of the skull in removed to allow the brain to swell outside of the confines of the skull. It is a fairly uncommon procedure. Like I said, I do not think we will have to do it unless the pressure in his skull spikes again."

"Doctor." Jess asked finally calmed merely by the grounding reality of the situation. "Please don't sugar coat anything, what are his chances of survival?"

"If he wakes up, forty-sixty. The longer time passes without him waking up, the slimmer the chances of survival. I would say, right now. He has a twenty percent chance to survive. A fifteen percent chance to survive without brain damage." The doctor looked grim. "He is a fighter, I'll give him that."

Jess nodded. "Thank you doctor.

"Jess." Bobby said the second the doctor left the room.

"You have to call him Bobby."

"Who?"

"Sam." Jess turned to fully face Bobby. "He needs to know, and he has a right to be here. Dean came for him when he was sick, he knows that, he will want to – need to – come."

"What about you?" Bobby asked knowing full well that Sam did not know about Dean and Jess's relationship.

"I'll leave. I love Dean with all my heart. He is the best brother I could hope for, but, he needs Sam more than me." Jess smiled bitterly. "They need each other. Just, keep me in the loop, please." She recited Sam's number for Bobby to type into his phone, but he did not immediately call.

"Does he know where you are?" he asked.

"He knows I flew to Montana. But the soonest flight, the one I took, flew me to Butte. He does not know I am in Helena, he called earlier but I haven't called him back yet."

"Okay. We are going to come up with an alibi fer you to use. There is a hospital in Anaconda, Montana State Hospital. You will tell him that is where your friend was, he pulled through and you and are headed home from Butte airport. The friend's family paid for your ticket to show their gratitude for your support. Sound good?"

"Do I even want to know how you know about the hospital in Anaconda?" Jess asked.

"Probably not." Bobby replied. He sat down heavily and hit call. In the silence of the room – aside from the beeping machines and the constant swoosh of the ventilator – it was possible to hear the phone ringing on Sam's end. Jessica held her breath.

"_Bobby." _Sam sounded wary.

"Hey Sam, how things going?" Bobby asked wearily, allowing the past few days of strain to seep into his voice.

"_What happened! Who is it?..." _the pause that followed was so brief Jess figured he just must always expect it_ "…It's Dean isn't it! What happened!" _the panic in Sam's voice audibly was building_._

"Yeah kid, it's yer brother." Bobby huffed, so much for breaking it gently. "You need to get here, it's bad."

"_Bobby, I'm at school. I can't just drop everything." _The argument sounded as weak as his voice before it fizzled out at the end_. "How bad is bad?" _And heaven help him, he sounded like a scared little child.

"Fifteen percent chance of survival." Bobby replied with a choked sort of gruffness.

There was a very long strained pause before Sam growled. _"Where are you? And what happened?"_

"St. Peter's hospital, Helena, Montana. He got mauled by a grisly and tossed into a ravine of sorts."

"_Bobby!... I'm on my way. Where's Dad?"_

"I haven't been able to reach him, but I've left a few messages."

"_Figures."_ Sam snorted cutting off the conversation.

"See ya soon kid." Bobby replied with an equally indigent huff to the dead phone.

"Where is their father?" Jess asked timidly.

"Right here, you're looking at him." Bobby retorted pointing at his chest. "I have taken care of them for as long as I have known them, John doesn't deserve to call my boys his kids the damn fool." He turned gruffly and shook his hand at the very still invalid. "You hear that you idjit! You better survive this for me and your brother! And Jess." He added jerking his thumb at her. He sat heavily down in a chair by the wall and rubbed his face wearily. "We need ya kid.

Jess smiled at the sheer mother bear gruff but tender love that was so apparent in the kind redneck.

Suddenly her phone rang. Telling Bobby's alibi was easier then she expected, Sam was very distracted. Yes, she was fine, she was going to stay with her friend's family for the rest of the day and night and fly home tomorrow morning. Yes, he should definitely go if something important had come up. And yes, she certainly loved him.

Sam was going to catch an eight o-clock flight to Montana and be at the hospital by 10am, that gave Jess a little under four hours before she had to leave…

She sat there quietly beside Dean after Sam hung up. Bobby left to give her a moment – and it certainly felt like only a moment when he returned and handed her purse to her. "He just called, he is in a cab and wanted to know the room number and the name Dean is using."

"Thank you." She replied sweetly. She bent over and pressed her lips to the only unbruised place on Dean's cheek. "Listen you, getter better you hear me. I love you very much and I forgive you for ignoring my phone calls these past few months. Sam's coming, take care of him for me okay. Remember, 'cause that's your job and you are the very best. He needs his big brother… so do I." She kissed him again for good luck and slipped out of the room and into the empty one down the row.

A few minutes passed before her heard his unmistakable voice. She would know that voice anywhere even though it was saturated with panic and hitched with pain.

"Bobby." He choked. She could imagine his hazel brown eyes brimming with forbidden tears under his floppy chocolate bangs. "Where is he?"

"It's good to see ya kid. You look great. Here he is right down here. Doctor says if we can't get him to wake up, he probably won't survive." Bobby replied leading him to the room. "He is fighting, though."

Jess peered around the corner to see the familiar profile gazing fixatedly through Dean's door. A tear trickled down his face and she was vaguely aware of a matching one on her own face as he ran an unsteady hand through his hair.

"Oh Dean! Wh-what did you…" he gasped at last. 'Yeah, yeah, the day he stops fighting…" he murmured slipping through the door and out of her sight. _Why? God, why? I know I prayed and hoped that You would make this happen, but did You have to bring them together at the stake of Dean's life? _

Jess knew it was unwise of her to come out of hiding. She should leave. Turn for the door and walk out. Really, it was the wise choice. Just think of how terrible it would be if Sam were to see her… somehow, she figured he would be a little distracted right now.

Jess carefully stole back down the hallway and stepped up behind Bobby where she could see but not really be seen. Sam was standing as if rooted at the foot of Dean's bed. Tears were trickling unheeded down his face as he took everything in. The head wrap to the chest. Stormy-sky coloring against the sickly pallor of his skin. The tubes in his mouth and nose. The leads that monitored the pressure in his skull.

He looked to young, so awfully young and vulnerable. Long black lashed rested gently against freckled cheeks. His chest was rising and falling thanks to the machine forced between the perfect curves of his ashen lips. Just a child lost in a world of pain with nothing to hang onto. Jess muffled her sob in her arm.

"Dean." Sam choked. "You stupid sonofabitch." Taking Dean's needle laden hand in his own he rested his forehead against his brother's white-wrapped sweat-soaked brow. "I'm here, Dean. It's okay now, I'm here. Wake up please." He whispered.

Jess wasn't sure if it was her imagination, but she could have sworn Dean's pulse had jumped when his brother had started talking.

Sam ran his fingers through Dean's damp hair above the bandage. Roughly he swiped at his face. "Yeah, I know, I'm such a princess." He laughed pitifully though hitching breaths. Carefully he settled down in the chair that Jess had recently vacated and rested his head on his brother arm. "I'm not going anywhere."

Jess brushed away her own tears and slipped quietly away. This was no longer her world, this was Sam and Dean and that mysterious brotherhood they shared. Bobby chased her down in the lobby and gave her the key and location of his motel.

"Get cleaned up." He growled at her in the same fond manner with which he growled at the boys. She could feel a new wave of emotion at the inclusion into the family threaten to push the situation even farther into unwelcome chick-flick realm, so she just nodded wordlessly and left.

It was easy enough to find the motel. After making a cup of tea, Jess showered quickly and waited. Sure enough, Mac Roni lit up her screen.

"Hey Bobby." She said in a cat-like calm voice.

"Hey yourself. Sam just dropped off in the chair. I figured you would be wondering how he was."

"Yeah, is he going to be okay, or should I plan on "flying out" for moral support?" Jess asked.

"He'll be fine."

"And Dean?"

The silence brought tears back to her eyes.

"Thank you Bobby." Jess whispered. She hung up the phone and shut her eyes against the noon sunlight.

"Be okay Dean, Please be okay." She whispered to the room. The image of Sam's strong tan floppy-hair-fringed forehead resting against Dean pale clammy bandaged one was seared into the backs of her eyes lids in livid watercolors of green and greys, life against death… and she wept.

* * *

**Agh**! I know. I'm so terrible!

So, what do you think? Do you like the way I brought Sam in?...? Yes, no.

**Thoughts? Comments?**

So, how is this going to play out? Is **Jess** going to **leave**? Is **Sam** going to find out she was there? Is **Dean** going to wake up? And **what about John**… …what about their wayward father who seems to never show but somehow is always there…

Thanks lovies, and please **review**!

~Kiliana


	14. Smoke on the Water (part 3)

**Okay! **For starters, my birthday was Wednesday. **I'm 21**! Ha! And you should all feel very special because I curled up with a whiskey-sprite and wrote you a chapter. Unfortunately I wasn't finished with it (still am not) so there is going to be another few chapters coming.

So I carefully thought about all your input on what to do with **John**. You will soon see the results of my decision. To begin the chapter **I am in Sam's POV** instead of Jess's (yeah this is a first) when I finish this particular story arc (Dean in the hospital) I will be going back to Jess's POV as the main POV.

Thank you all again! For sticking with me. I love it!

~Kiliana

* * *

**Then:**

"_Be okay Dean, Please be okay." She whispered to the room. The image of Sam's strong tan floppy-hair-fringed forehead resting against Dean pale clammy bandaged one was seared into the backs of her eyes lids in livid watercolors of green and greys, life against death… and she wept. _

**Now:**

"Hey." Sam croaked, he cleared his throat, shifted in the chair clutching Dean's uninjured hand a bit tighter and tried again. "Hey Dean, Yeah it's me, Sam – um, Sammy – you know, the geeky annoying little brother, the one who went to college and left you alone with Dad and no home…" Sam's voice chopped out and he scrubbed back tears.

He coughed and turned to look at the wall. "Ummm – uhum… yeah, me. Wow you must hate me."

"Don't be an idjit!" Bobby snorted from the doorway causing Sam to literally fall out of his chair with surprise. "And before you get all," Bobby cut him off with a wave before he could get a word out. "Ya know, chick-fickie on your unconscious brother – Don't be a bloody idjit! Dean loves you more than anyone else in the world… though he would choke me if he heard me say that."

Sam managed a weak smile and nodded. "Thanks Bobby. But, I am a terrible brother."

"Duh, even I would agree with you there, you're a selfish brat! …but he loves you anyway and don't forget that." Bobby turned in a grunt and grabbed the door. "I don't need to see yer tears. I'll go grab a cup'a joe. Be back later."

"Thanks Bobby. For everything. Wait!"

Bobby swung the door open again.

"What happened to him, Bobby?" Sam asked. "It wasn't just a bear was it?"

"In a nutshell." Bobby shut the door and gave him a severe one over. "He got in over his head with a shifter. Working with another hunter who called him asking for help with a skin-walker bear. He got himself mauled, tossed off a pretty nice drop right on a protruding tree branch. He ganked the thing – silver bullet to the heart – from the bottom of the drop with a rod'a wood shoved through his chest, and then survived for several hours, after calling me, until help showed up. When I got here, he was out and hasn't woken up since. His "back-up" – because some two morons took off and left him behind – ditched him the second the bear showed."

Sam gaped like a fish. "Shit." He gulped and looked back at Dean. "Dad left him too?"

"Yeah, you dumbass, both you and yer Dad. Dean's been running solo and just following yer Dad's prompts for a while."

Sam rubbed his forehead and felt tears burning at his eyes again. "Yeah, thanks Bobby." He murmured.

"Sure." Bobby retorted. He shut the door and leaned against it wearily. He wanted to hug the tall gangly "sasquatch" and reassure him that Dean was going to be fine, but for one, he couldn't exactly lie to the kids, and two: Sam needed to know just how badly he screwed his brother by leaving. Tough love. That was Bobby's style. And yes, he staunchly refused to admit those were tears running down his face.

SPN

Sam's eyes were riveted on the floor beside the wheel of the hospital bed. One hand loosely grasped his brother's cold one, while the other was settled on the clip board that described the severity and magnitude of all his brother's injuries. He couldn't read it now, the whole room was swimming through unshed tears.

He hadn't moved for over an hour. Dean's weak pulse fluttered against his hand like a life-line to his reeling world.

He had failed his brother. He – not that other jerk-ass hunter who deserved to rot! – no, he did, because he was the one who walked out and left Dean without reliable back up.

But his brother was a moron too, he could have stopped hunting.

Hah, yeah. As if Dean would _ever _leave the world of hunting. Hunting was as much a part of Dean as that stupid leather jacket and the familiar scent that was more familiar to Sam than the back of his hand; gun-powder mixed with sweat with Dean's own warm smoky scent that still faintly clung to his body under the hospital antiseptic.

Frankly, Sam would be terrified if Dean ever _did _stop hunting. He would have to do the whole salt, iron, and holy water routine if that ever happened.

It was why he never called, he knew, because he would beg Dean to leave hunting and join him, and Dean wouldn't, because he couldn't and because he was – well, Dean. And Dean? Well Dean would ask him to come back and join him, and he would, because he could, and well, it was – well, Dean…

Sam blinked emptily. And their Dad. Damn! He hated him even more now… Not a word. Where even was he? Self-centered, neglectful, obsessed, lame excuse for a -"

An unsteady trip in the steady rhythm of Dean's heart startled him out of his train of though. "Dean?" Sam shot to his feet and bent over his emaciated inert brother. "Dean, can you hear me?"

Dean, didn't move. The ventilator swooshed on unperturbed. The steady trip of the trembling heart beeped on steadily.

Sam chuckled wryly. How totally Dean. Their dad wasn't even here, Sam hadn't said a word out loud, and Dean – unconscious and clinging to life by the fringes with the tips of his metamorphic fingers-tips – was still getting between them to stop the argument.

Sam sat back down with a shuttering breath and pillowed his head on the bed against Dean's hand. Dean's thigh felt cold through the cloth sheets where it was pressed against his brother's head. So Sam quietly spread another blanket over him and resumed his previous position firmly clutching Dean's hand.

Sometime later, it could have been days for all Sam knew, the door swung quietly open to admit the doctor.

Sam sat up in a rush rubbing his bleary eyes roughly to better see the intruder.

"Ah, I'm sorry to disturb you." The doctor whispered making his way to Dean's bed.

"No, no it's quite alright." Sam hastily amended.

"I'm Doctor Shawn. I'm your brother's physician. You must be his brother?"

"Yep, yeah, that's me. Sam, Sam White." Sam stood and held out his hand. If the doctor was at all surprised at his size, he didn't show it.

"So, how is he doing Doctor?" The concern, hope and dread in his voice was pitifully obvious.

"Well… hum. His temperature is coming back up." He doctor said in a confused voice.

"But, that is a good thing right?" Sam asked as the doctor ran his hand across Dean's forehead below the bandage and down both arms where ever there was skin showing.

"Oh yes. Very good indeed, just, unexpected." The doctor hummed for a moment. "That's interesting." He grinned at Sam. "You have been holding his hand here, haven't you?"

Sam flushed red to the ears. "Ummm…"

"Oh no. I want you to continue to do so. I could make it a doctor's order if you want."

"What? Why!" Sam looked, if possible, even more embarrassed.

"Because his hand is at least three degrees warmer than the rest of his body. I believe you are warming him up where the blankets weren't affective." The doctor chuckled.

"Wait. I'm warming up my freezing cold brother by simply holding his hand, while you said the electric blankets weren't able to?"

"Yes." The doctor agreed amiably. "Human contact is an amazing therapy. The pulsing of your own heart alone sets your hand apart from the heated blankets. Plus physical touch is calming."

"Really?" Sam mister-geek-know-it-all hadn't heard this before.

"Yu-hum. When a mother has a child she will shiver uncontrollably until she is given her child. They warm each other up. Human contact is incredible." The doctor continued as he finished up his assessment. "Although I have never seen anyone warm an individual up completely through the hand. It was nice meeting you Sam, don't let go of that hand. Doctor's order." He flashed the bewildered Sam and cheeky grin and slipped out.

"I like that guy." Sam informed the silent occupant of the room. "He is good, and has plenty of audacity…" he picked up his brothers hand and sat back down. "I bet you would like him too if you would open your eyes." Hopefully Sam scanned his brother's face before huffing in disappointment. "Yeah, I didn't think that would work, though… never hurts to try."

His head plunked back down nestled against Dean's thigh and he sighed.

"Jerk." It stung when there was no comeback.

SPN

Jess was dozing. Not really sleeping, rather dozing. Her eyes were mere slits through which the sun filtered with no particular shape. So comfortable was her body that her legs seemed to be floating and her arms buzzed.

Suddenly out of nowhere, a phone began to chirp. Jess shot up and craned her neck curiously at the desk. The light of the screen of a completely strange phone went dark and silent.

_Who's phone is that! _Jess wondered. _Not, mine… not Dean's cause Bobby has… Oh, It's Bobby's. _

Abruptly it began to ring again. Jess tiptoed closer. _As if it could see me for me to need to be tiptoeing. _She snickered at herself in exasperation.

*John Winchester* said the caller ID

Jess froze.

Ring.

Her hand moved of its own accord.

Ri-

"Hello." She asked in a throaty purr.

There was a moment of silence and then – "Where is Bobby!" the voice was gruff and harsh but lined with whispers of fear and a sheen of charm. It was undoubtedly and unmistakably a Winchester.

"You Bastard!" Jess snapped.

SPN

It was cold and dark. Okay… take that back… it was freezing and dark. Somewhere faintly there was the hint of warmth, just out of reach but creeping relentlessly forward.

Where was he? What had happened? The Bear – skin-walker. If he had had a throat to feel he was sure it would have gone tight.

The hunter – Robson… That's right.

_He curled his hands around the Jim Beam that was apparently his only friend left in the world would wouldn't walk out on him. Okay, yeah he was drunk. REALLY drunk, and not at all happy. Wasn't drinking yourself under the table supposed to help you forget, not remember every DAMN thing that was EVER said. _

_He groaned and drew a shot right out of the bottle._

_He needed a hunt and he needed one Now, Damnit._

_Almost as in answer to his prayers, he phone buzzed in his pocket buzzed against his thigh._

"_Hhheello…" Crap that sounded terrible. Let's try that again. "H-hello."_

"_Dean Winchester?" It was more a question than anything else._

"_Well, shit. I guess that's still right."_

"_Why you trying to change it?"_

"_hhhhh… Who's askin'"_

"_Names Robson, Dale Robson. I am in need of some help and Bobby Singer said you're the best."_

"_Doubt that." Dean growled and rubbed his face. "What kinda hunt?"_

"_Shin-Walker in Montana. Just outside of Helena. Mt. Helena Park. Can you give me a hand? I need ya there by Wednesday."_

"_Sure. Whatt-tever man." Dean slurred. "Wednesday, Helena Park." He clicked his phone shut._

_Skin-walker… almost as good as a pack of wolves. He finished his drink, left a wad of cash, and weaved his way to the exit._

_The moment the cold air hit his face, Dean doubled over heaving into the grass. Ugh! Yeah sure he was going to be in Montana by Wednesday. _

_Dean hauled himself back upright and stumbled back into the bar. The tender's brows went up at his sudden and unglamorous return. _

"_nuther whisssskey." He slurred. _

"_Dude you have had plenty I think." The bartender argued halfheartedly as he began to fill another shot glass. But, as the tip jar smashed into the wall inches from his head in the dead center of the 'specials board,' his halfhearted denial exploded. He spun around to face the very drunk hunter waving the bouncer over with one hand._

"_Who do you think you are." The tender snapped._

"_I asked for another." Dean growled mencingly suddenly sounded dead sober but for the tilt of his swaying body. "Keep your pinions to yerself…"_

"_Boy." The bouncer rumbled from swinging his six feet of muscle and fat over with practiced ease. "You're done. Either leave on your own power or I'm dragging you."_

"_You wowldent." Dean peered way up at him with steely determination is his dilated eyes._

_In answer the bouncer grabbed his arm firmly._

_Dean may have been drunk – too drunk to walk or see straight – but he was certainly not too drunk for his instinctual training to fail. Left hand caught the bouncer's wrist and solidly booted feet found purchase on the counter and he flipped himself out of his chair over the back and to a crouch on the floor. With no other option, the bouncer came along for the ride. The moment Dean made very solid controlled contact with the floor he twisted up on the wrist in his hand slipping the bone free from the socket with a dull, sucking pop. Continuing the upward motions his fist smashed into the bouncer's jaw. He hit the ground like a rock and didn't move. Dean swayed, flailed wilding for the nearest chair and cracked his knuckles. "Damn." He muttered. "I guess you would. Sorry, I don't like to be touched." _

_He looked up at the bartenders shocked and quickly reddening face. "Sorry. I'll leave." He swiped the nearest drink, shooting the rightful owner and deadly scowl, and downed it in one. After his little display, no one lifted a hand to stop him as he crazily wound back to the door. He found the correct handle out of the six he was seeing and slipped back into the cold._

_Two miles and two hours later, his shaky hands locked the motel door behind him before he passed out in the middle of the room, face pressed up against the rough carpet._

* * *

So, what do you think? **Good**, **bad,** **ugly**…

**Superchiwo**: Yeah, John is going to rearing his head. Muahaha!

**KatilynUzumaki**: Sam might…. Possibly… in the distant future….

**Idreamofivan**: Me too! I actually like John's character. And Sam, yeah….

**Cyenthia** **30:** I figure you are going to enjoy the next chapter too!

Oh thank you all so much for reading!

~Kiliana


	15. Smoke on the Water (part 4)

Hello, hello! Welcome to the story John.

So first. I am very sorry for the lag in writing. I have class starting in 8 days. Yeah Christmas break my foot! Anyway. With the craziness of Christmas and travel and orientation for my classes… I haven't gotten in as much writing as I would like. Anyway. Here is another part. I am going to combine some of the earlier chapters because I want too… eventually. I am tried of this story line so I am wrapping it up and will be back to Dean and Jess phone calls soon. YAY! I know I can't wait.

On that note, John Winchester is a BLAST to write! Because I am writing it completely from Jess's perspective (for the second two-thirds of this chapter) and I got carried away. One more chapter and this story line will be wrapped up.

I Really want to know what you think of this chapter. More than anything.

I elaborated at the end. Enjoy!

Kiliana.

* * *

**Then:**

_*John Winchester* said the caller ID_

_Jess froze._

_Ring._

_Her hand moved of its own accord._

_Ri-_

"_Hello." She asked in a throaty purr._

_There was a moment of silence and then – "Where is Bobby!" the voice was gruff and harsh but lined with whispers of fear and a sheen of charm. It was undoubtedly and unmistakably a Winchester._

"_You Bastard!" Jess snapped._

**Now:**

Jess almost flung the phone in her sudden rage.

"Wah… me?" John sounded angry and confused.

"Yes you! What you don't care enough for your boy to call back. Huh! It that it? Do you hate him? He has been in the damn hospital for four days on deaths door and you don't even call. Oh not to mention the fact that you abandoned him before that. Kick one kid out and disown him just to dump the other like unneeded baggage…"

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!" John thundered cutting her off with the speed and ferocity of a freight train.

Jess's voice closed up in sudden fear.

"No, I don't hate my sons. But you couldn't possibly understand why I did what I did. Now. Where. Is. My. Son!"

Jess's mind blanked for a moments. _Hateful bastard deserves a heart-attack if he even has a heart to attack. _"He is dead, John Winchester. He is dead." And Jess snapped the phone shut, tears dripping down her own face at the mere idea.

Quickly she drew out her own phone and called Dean's number.

"'lo" Bobby greeted her tiredly.

"Hey, I figured I owed you a fair warning. I pissed off one John Winchester when he called your phone."

"Balls." Bobby sighed gruffly. She could hear him rub his eyes in frustration. "Okay, I'll get ready fer the fallout."

"How is Sam?"

"He's in with Dean. Doctor just checked in on them."

"Kay thanks." Jess whispered.

SPN

Sam smoothed Dean's hair away from his face for the thousandth time or something like that.

"You know, I miss you. I want my big brother. So you have to get better, Dean. You have to get better for you pain-in-the-ass little brother cause I couldn't live knowing you died because I wasn't there to watch your back." He scrubbed a hand over his face. Dean's temperature had come up another degree. The afternoon had bleed away into night. Bobby positioned himself in the corner when the doctor returned.

"Good, good." The doctor muttered. "So far so good."

Sam looked up leery eyed. "Can I lay beside him?" He asked softly embarrassed that Bobby had to hear that request.

Bobby smiled fondly. Even since Dean had first stepped into his house lugging his toddler brother in his arms, Sam would always sleep as close as possible when one of them was hurt.

The doctor nodded. "You're right. That would do wonders for his temperature. I'll have the nurses help you shift him over to make room."

Hardly any time later, Sam slipped on to the bed beside his still brother. He retracted his long limbs to avoid hitting Dean in his sleep, tucking his brother's good arm under his own and across his furnace of a chest. He rolled on to his side and rested his shaggy head against Dean's bare shoulder. Almost instantly Dean's heart beat settled ever so slightly and his EKG evened, relaxing unconsciously in his brother's presence.

Bobby shook his head fondly and draped a blanket loosely over the monster-sized little brother. In the silence of the hospital room he watched him sleep silently side-by-side like they were always meant to be.

Since Sam had left and John high-tailed it in the other direction Bobby had watched Dean slowly destroy himself throwing caution to the wind and burying his troubles in a bottle of jack. Without his geeky, overly cautious little brother, Dean turned into a whirlwind of destruction. Now, cold, unmoving, colored like the night, Dean looked more at peace then he had looked since the night Sam had walked away.

Bobby sighed and sat down in the chair that had housed Sam all afternoon.

At about midnight, accompanied by a clamor of nurses and ruckus of destruction, the door swung open to reveal the disheveled, livid, and completely animalistic looking eldest Winchester. His dark hair was tangled and ruffled telling of agitation and worry; and his eyes were wide with anger and fright. The name "Dean" died on his lips as he glanced around the room.

Bobby sprang to his feet moving faster than he thought he could, and gave John and shove back out of the door.

"Move!" John roared.

"You go in there raging like that and you will kill him!" Bobby hissed firmly planting himself in front of the door. After a brief vicious wrestling match, John stepped back. The look on his face sent nurses scurrying.

"Listen up idjit!" Bobby growled staring the marine down. "He has been picking up on emotions like crazy. Stress sends his brain and body into spasms. There are three holes in his scull at the moment. He will not survive another seizure! You've GOT to calm down John!"

John rubbed furiously at his face. "He's alive?" he whispered so brokenly Bobby almost forgot he didn't like the man.

"Yeah. I guess I know what she meant by pissing off a John Winchester."

John breathed in and out and – "Is there a problem here sirs?" The security team asked closing on the two men from both directions.

"Yeah. No problem." Bobby said letting John continue to try and get a handle on his anger. "This is John White. There was a mix up in the communication and he thought his boy was dead. We are alright here."

The security teams looked skeptical, but it was midnight, and they were tired, and Bobby had made sense. "Okay, but keep the noise down or we are going to kick you out."

"Yup." Bobby waved them away and turned back to John. "Listen. Sam's in there. And unless you want to get in a screaming match and get kicked out, I wouldn't wake him up."

John nodded and trying to push past Bobby. "One more thing, John. That girl who you talk to, she wasn't kidding about how bad he looks, John."

"Let me in, Singer!" John growled. "My boys are in there and one of them is hurt. Move."

Bobby huffed and opened the door walking in first. John sprang to his son's side in a single bound.

Frozen at the bottom of the bed he took in the picture. Sam was flushed with heat in the stuffy room, his long legs were crossed over the foot of the bed and his was snoring softly against his brother's shoulder.

In contrast Dean was a watercolor painted in white and green and blue. Bruises shadowed his face and his lashes were lost in the darkness that circled his eyes. The white bandage around his forehead set off the bruises in vibrant colors. Despite the whoosh and click of the ventilator, his chest barely seemed to move at all beneath the heavy bandages that seemed to be all that held his battered body together.

"I'm going to kill Dale Robson." John whispered hoarsely to the room. Bobby didn't for a moment doubt him. He moved slowly to the side of the bed and ghosted his hand across his eldest's face. Leaning over he softly pressed a kiss to Dean's brow just above his eyes.

"Dean" he whispered thickly. "I'm sorry. I was wrong to leave you without back-up you can trust. You gotta get better for me son. Please."

Dean's heart rate kicked up a few notches at his father's voice, and instantly Sam was awake. His brown eyes opened groggily to the world and landed on the face of his father.

"Dad?" he slurred sleepily, visibly fighting off the folds of sleep.

"Yeah, son. It's me. Go back to sleep kid. You're both safe."

"Dean okay?" Sam asked dragging his brother's arm closer into his chest. And propping himself on his elbow.

"Yeah. He knows I'm here though." John answered. His eyes traced Sam's firm hold on Dean's hand down his battered and IVed arm to his silent, cold face. Sam nodded slowly and followed his father's glance.

"Good. I know he would want you to be." Sam murmured "I didn't think you would come."

John brushed his knuckled across Sam's arm and gently pushed him back down into the bed.

"I'm here. Sam, I'm here." He sighed raggedly and treaded his fingers gently through Sam brown hair. "Sleep kiddo."

Bobby shook his head. Damn stubborn Winchester and their black and white world and their stubborn pride. Damn stubborn men who you couldn't help but like. Damnit. He was tempted to think the whole scene cute for about half a minute – before he thought (in Dean's voice of course) "You're such a girl, Bobby." He chuckled

John sank down into the chair by Dean and rested his hand on his shoulder. He didn't sleep that night, just counted his Sam's snores and the pulses of Dean's heart against his fingers.

In the morning he was gone.

SPN

Jess walked quickly through the waiting room of the hospital. It was filling up with people already and it was only eight in the morning. Jess rounded the corner headed to Dean's room when she walked directly into a tall man.

"Excuse me she murmured without looking up."

"I'm sorry." He said in Sam's voice with Dean's charm and gentle husky gruffness. "I wasn't looking where I was-"

"Winchester?" She gasped in shock looking directly up into Sam's brown eyes. They narrowed in sudden mistrust and his hand latched onto her arm in a way that wouldn't possibly draw attention.

"Who the hell are you!" He demanded.

"I take it you figured out he is alive?" She breathed.

John quickly assessed their surroundings and drew her into a side room pinning her against the wall.

"Who gave you the right to-" He started in a dark frightening voice before she cut him off.

"You only come if their dead." Her voice was full of accusation and possibly just as dark. She had certainly been learning from Sam.

John let go of her like he had been burned. "Dean said his was fine last I talked to him. He was going camping with a friend. I went out of service on a business trip and when I get back I have fifty-six messages from Bobby. When I call, I get a girl. A girl who thinks she knows a Damn thing and tells me my son – who I talked to five days before and he was fine – is dead." He closed the space between them. "I drove over a hundred miles per hour all night to get here. The whole way I could hardly breathe. I basically wrecked the hospital trying to get to his room, and guess what? YOU LIED TO ME!"

Jess paled as his face almost touched her's. He smelled like Dean – gun-powered and sweat mixed with leather and smoke. It was nostalgic but did nothing to relieve her fear. Was it possible that she had misjudged the man?"

"I'm Jess." She squeaked "Jessica Moore."

Sam's father stepped away from her and visibly deflated. "Sam's girl friend." He acknowledged.

"He doesn't know I am here." She explained in a slightly stronger voice.

"I can believe that. Dean told me about your friendship."

"I'm sorry I lied. You hadn't come and Dean was seizing and they were talking about fifteen percent survival chances last I heard. I was mad and took it out on you."

John nodded and glanced around before leading her back towards the waiting room. "I understand this time, but don't you EVER do that again! Now, go check on the boys and come back. I want to talk."

"My plane leaves at ten." She replied.

"Good so we have two hours." His voice left no room for discussion. _Oh help. Maybe I could wake Sam up to defend me… yeah right! Ummm… maybe I could dawdle… YEAH RIGHT! Suck it up Jess, he's not going to eat you… I hope…_

Jess found herself moving on autopilot all the way to Dean's door. Sam was still asleep clinging to Dean's arm like a drowning man. Dean was just as still and silent as before. Jess smiled at Bobby, kissed Dean, and fled before Sam could possibly open his eyes.

On the way back to the waiting room she found her heart hammering harder and harder. _This was John bloody Winchester_. The man who Sam couldn't stand. The man who kicked him out. The cause of the scares that littered Sam's body. She didn't know a thing about him.

And she was suddenly scared.

But when she was greeted by a smile as he held the door… Oh help – she was in over her head. Who ever said to stay far away from the Winchesters if you want to preserve your sanity, (surely someone had said that at least once in the history of mankind) hadn't been kidding.

John smiled, and walked her to her car, and help the door, and gave her directions to the nearest breakfast store, and made sure she knew she better not go anywhere else with his eyes.

Jess obeyed. Like, WHAT ELSE WAS SHE EXPECTED TO DO!

In the car she talked, fast, rambling, out loud… working herself up and gathering her confidence. Hell yeah, she could take John bloody freaking Winchester on any day of the week and come out looking like those commercial models with flowing silky hair and perfect make-up. She was going to CRUSH the guys… and Oh dear he was coming to get her door… yeah, forget the perfect make-up, she'd settle for the hair.

No wonder Sam didn't like him, he commanded obedience and scared you to death if you didn't obey.

Then, in the booth in the diner –

"So. Would you care to explain yourself!" She spat out before losing all of her hard won car confidence.

For a moment he said absolutely nothing but simply stared at her with an amused half smile (another proof that he was most certainly Dean's father.) "Explain myself about what?"

"Why you kicked your son – my boyfriend – your child out and banished him from the family. At least Dean has the honor to check in on him and make sure he is doing okay."

John smiled all the more. "Yes, he certainly does. You couldn't possibly understand."

"Do not brush me off. I understand more than most people would. I live with him."

"And yet you know nothing about his childhood at all." John sighed.

Jess recoiled. "Yeah I do. Dean raised him. You were never home. You kicked him out and forced Dean to choose who to stay with."

John's face betrayed nothing of what he thought of that little spiel.

"So yeah." She continued feeling slightly more confident. "You are a terrible Dad! He never asks for his father when he is sick or asleep or hurt. He asks for Dean. He begs me to get Dean. He wants only DEAN! Not you! Never you! Dean knows everything about him. What do you know? What is his least favorite vegetable?" she dared

"Broccoli." John answered though he seemed to need a moment to control his voice.

"What is he allergic to?" she snapped again annoyed that he knew the answer.

"Penicillin. Large quantities of strawberries. Oh and exercise." John cracked a smile on the last one.

Jess frowned. She didn't know if the strawberries part was true or not. "His favorite color and book?"

John's eyebrows lifted a little. "Blue and The Lord of the Flies?" That was definitely a question.

"No. Green and The Iliad by Homer." Okay Jess was more than smug. "What is his favorite comfort food?"

John chuckled. "You really going to keep this up…"

"Are you avoiding the question."

"Um… something canned. (Dean made a ton of canned stuff before he got old enough to cook.)"

_Was the smartass enjoying this Q&amp;A? _Jess frowned. _He was actually enjoying it. She was supposed to be showing him what a terrible father he was. _

"No! It's mac and cheese." She retorted.

"Boxed – canned – same difference." He retorted back.

"Favorite song."

"Hey Jude. Beetles."

_And wow, was that pain and regret she saw in his eyes for a split second. _"Yeah." She replied suddenly softening for some reason (definitely not because of the second of actual anguish she had seen.)

"I have one." He said catching her eye. "Favorite Gun."

Jess's mouth dropped open.

"Or his record for maximum pushups in one go." John added his face once more impassive.

"W…what?" Jess's mind was reeling. _Who had a favorite gun? Who the hell counted pushups and gloried in that?_

John grinned. "91. He was pretty proud. Dean had stopped at 90 to go make dinner and Sam was determined to beat him for once. And it's a Taurus PT92AFS if you were wondering about the gun." He added – _Hell he was even smug._

"If anything, that shows what a bad father you are that he even needs to have a favorite gun. Normal people don't know that much about GUNS!" Jess argued.

This time his face was too well controlled to show the regret although it reflected in his eyes.

"Isn't that the truth. You do know who and what I am right… I am a soldier, of course my boys know guns."

Jess sat back and rubbed her fingers together under the table. This wasn't going as planned.

John grinned finally. "Figured I wouldn't know the answers? Figured I didn't know anything about my own Sons? The only things I have left of their mother? Sure, Dean always filled out any necessary forms. And Yes, Dean watched out for him and took care of him because I worked. You're right, I never could and never will win the father of the year award. But that doesn't mean I don't love my boys and wish the best for them. Dean fills me in on what Sammy is up to whenever you talk, and Dean is not the only person who has driven past your apartment just to make sure he is safe! You're wrong Jess. I do love my son. I only told him to stay gone for his own safety and THAT is what you could NEVER understand even if you were to try. The only way to insure he stayed safe was to make sure he never came back." John's voice had dropped to a husky growl.

For once, Jess wouldn't tell if she was being played. If she was, he was terribly good at it.

"All the same." She whispered back. "You didn't raise him. Dean did!" she spat it as best as she could, determined not to like him. Sam made him seem like a tough, controlling, negligent monster and be damned if she was going to like him.

John sat back and whistled through his teeth.

"I like you kid. You'll do just fine in this world." He chuckled. Their food had arrived and the waitress had fled at some point in the conversation that they hadn't noticed. So she dug into her sandwich so she didn't have to think about his dark eyes – Sam's eyes – boring into the top of her skull. Soon John followed suit.

They paid for the dinner and left. John met her eyes squarely "Take the car back to the rental at the airport. I'll drop you off at the door and make sure you get through security." Once again it was an order that left no room for argument.

Jess scampered to her door and ducked inside. _I hate them! Stupid stubborn Winchesters and their infuriating way of getting on your nerves and into your heart and still scaring the crap out of you all the time. Seriously. What is his problem? And I thought Sam had a scary side, turns out he is the most normal of the family. Boy am I glad I didn't grow up in that family._

At the rental place she considered hopping the shuttle for half a moment before the big scary truck pulled up and John's eyes snared her like a tractor beam and pulled her inside.

"Freaking death star." She grumbled climbing in. Yeah, she wasn't having the best morning.

John's eyes twinkled. "What is? My truck? It's not big enough."

Jess rolled her eyes (carefully turned away so as not to anger the beast) and sat back. John parked the car in the thirty minute drop-off zone and walked her in the building.

"Hello, good morning! How may I help you today?" the perky, sickeningly happy baggage claim lady asked. Jess felt like snapping at her but suddenly John was talking.

"Well good morning." He chirped back though Jess could see his shoulders stiffen just like Sam's when he was incredibly annoyed and trying not to show it. _Good at least she wasn't the only one who didn't like the giddy happy dorky fat lady behind the counter. Gosh Jess. Be a little more descriptive. What is up with me today!_

"How may I help you, are you checking bags?"

"I'm not." He replied easily as he set the bag down in the scale. "My daughter here is returning to school."

"Oh. That's so exciting. Here you go sweetheart-" Jess's blood boiled. How dare she call her that is Dean dying in a hospital an hour away. "-you're ID and you'll be all set." _Shoot I missed something._

"Just the ID baby." John's voice rumbled as he set his hand on her arm and brought her gaze up to his. His eyes were angry (not at her) and apologetic… apparently he knew about Dean's nickname for her. How he had figured it out mystified her. Yeah she was never going to figure that answer out.

He handed out the little piece of important plastic and discovered that John was explaining to the lady behind the counter "Oh no, she'll be fine. Flying makes her a little nervous." _Yeah right, but still it was nice for him to cover my blunder._

With the bags checked and her ticket printed. He walked her through security and down to the gate. How he made it through security was beyond her. He was basically a walking magnet he had so much metal on him. He filled the bucket and had to remove his shoes because they were steel toed. The security guards had laughed and he had laughed back without losing the stiffening of his shoulders.

_Wait… why was he even going through all the trouble? He wasn't flying. He was suffering being the butt of a joke (a capital offence in his mind she assumed) just to make sure she made it to her destination. Either he was babysitting her, or he was more a gentleman then he liked to let on. _Though she figured it may have something to do with the fact that she was Sam's girl, he claimed to care for Sam's safety, Sam's mom was blonde and looked a lot like her (according to the picture on the mantel). Anyway. She _knew_ that Dean would have escorted her and he had to learn it from somewhere. _Wait… why am I making excuses for him. I don't even like the guy…_

Suddenly he was back at her side and smiling like nothing had happened. "I made it." _Oh dear… he was laughing… so it was funny in hindsight was it?... _

They found her gate quickly and suddenly she was really glad he was there because of one stupid jerk who had fled before John's scowl and left all notions of hitting on her behind. _So the Winchester scowl works for all of them the same way. Nice to know._

At the gate he turned to face her.

"I know you don't like me. Sam doesn't particularly like me either. Dean is his hero, not me. So, you're right. I'm a pretty crappy dad. But I love him, and he loves you. So, this is my number. If you EVER need anything and Dean can't help you, leave me a message I'll call you back." He handed her a scrap of thick paper that looked like it was torn out of a journal. Jess pocketed it and nodded.

He ghosted a hand over her arm and turned away leaving her standing behind him. Then just before he walked away he turned back and gave her a sad smile.

"Take care of Dean's Sammy for me." He said and left her gaping.

_WHAT!... …. …Dean's Sammy… _Jess teared up as she made her way to her seat. Even John knew and acknowledged that Sam was more Dean's child then his own. There was something in his face when he parted with those words, regret, sorrow, pain, remorse, and… in his children. Jess shook her head and tried to clear her mind of the mystery that was John Winchester.

The plane shot into the air to hang balanced on the arms of the wind. Behind her Dean was cold and unresponsive, Sam was breaking into pieces, and John was watching over them both from a distance as he seemed to have done all their lives.

She liked him, the mystery that was John Winchester.

* * *

So I was assuming that since it is technically before 2001 John can go through security with Jess. I remember going all the way to the gate with my Dad all the time when I was a kid so I just went off of that.

So if Jess is acting a little out of character… just remember she is interacting with John Bloody Winchester, which alone is enough to through anyone out of whack.

Also. I happen to like the idea of John being a terrible father trying his hardest to be a good father. Trying to reconcile hunting with being a Dad is impossible so I think of him as trying.

Think of it this way. He just lost his wife and wants to kill everyone and everything he can get his hands on just to make someone else hurt too. Then he finds out that what killed her is the kind of thing he actually CAN kill without being a murderer. So he wrecks he pain and frustration on every evil sob out there. The boys are small enough to truck around in the car and Dean (who knows what is going on) takes care of Sammy so he doesn't feel so bad about leaving them alone for the very reason he should. (Because humans are the masters at justification. We can reason a way for anything) so he figures it is okay for short times because Dean is watchful. Soon it just becomes the way he lives, he hunts, and comes back to take care of his kids. All the while the boys grow and soon you have a terrible father who is never home, who loves his boys and who suddenly realizes they are grown up and pursuing their own lives. Sam wants to leave, John realizes that he can't protect Sam if he leaves. They argue and John runs him off so completely he will never return to hunting, because if he is alone, he better not be asking for trouble alone.

There that is sorta what I had in mind. I'm gonna write it eventually into a story perhaps.

But yeah, I like John as a character (and I am so thankful he is not my dad).

Plus I think he would like Jess and she would be able to accept him like she did Dean. After all they are both con-men and John isn't always angry. So hope you liked it.

Please, Please, Please, review I like to know what other people think of John. He is one of the most interesting and conflicted characters on the show. (And despite his faults, he turned out some great boys)

Thanks, Lovies.

Reviews and candy for my muse.

Kiliana

PS: I found it funny that the title this story on my computer is "drabble" because that is how it started… haha…. Yeah right…


	16. Smoke on the Water (part 5)

Hey, I'm back again.

So I hope you will all go check out my 'tag' story to this one. Since I didn't do a Christmas or New Year special (because of a crazy schedule) I decided to write it as a tag story. I'm calling it "Resolution".(now posted)

thanks lovies

~Kiliana

* * *

It was incredibly dark. Far too dark. Something was wrong… Oh right… he had been drinking. Like _drinking_ drinking. And then he had gone to the cabin and… led the bear right into the trap that wasn't there because… Fugly McFugler ran like a sissy girl! Yeah, so what if he sounded childish…

The bear tossed him and he landed… that's right... And it hurt like A BITCH! DAMN! WOW! Okay so he couldn't move or see. That's just wonderful. Thank you and Happy Birthday too you Fugly McFugler! You're gonna wish you had stayed!

He was still floating in the blackness though, which was just great by the way. Scratch that. He was spinning.

Wait! That was Sammy's voice. Sam. No, no way.

Sammy was at school.

Sammy had left.

Sammy left me.

So I was dreaming. But what was dream Sammy saying surely it wouldn't hurt to listen to dream Sammy.

"_I like that guy."_

Yeah, I bet you do, Sammy. You like EVERYONE! Was there every anyone you didn't like… oh yeah. Dad. Duh. stupid me stupid-

"_He is good, and has plenty of audacity…" _

What? Who does? Okay so what guy would this be? And don't tell me this has to do with school because-

"_I bet you would like him too if you would open your eyes." _

Open my eyes? Oooooo-kay. Um they are open genius… no wait. They aren't. Shit! Why can't I open – Sammy I can't open my eyes. Sam. You're really aren't you? SAM! …Sammy…I can't I-

"_Yeah, I didn't think that would work, though… never hurts to try."_

Sammy… …I'm here. I right here. I'm trying to. Help me out bro! I'm stuck, its dark and it scary and I'm floating. Spinning Sammy. I can't stop spinning!

Suddenly there was something warm nestled against Dean's thigh and the spinning blissfully slowed.

"_Jerk."_

It was familiar. It was Sam.

BITCH! Sammy I can't yell, you know… either. I'm trying.

Sam sighed in the darkness. He tried to match it. But the darkness only got thicker his breathing wasn't changing. He couldn't sigh or yell or talk he could only breathe at a steady annoying pace he had no control over. The panic began to worm its way back into his chest.

"_Open your eyes Dean, please. For me. For Bobby. For Dad."_

Dad? Wow wait, historical moment. Someone run and grab a scribe (and yes, Sam! I know what a scribe is) Sam just said Dad's name without sneering or sounding angry.

"_I promise I won't yell at him ever again, no matter what. Just, please wake up."_

Really? You ACTUALLY think you could do that? I think I might put money on ten minutes but, ever again… Sam. Sammy are you hurting in the head... Are you hurt? SAM!

Dad's gonna be pissed I messed up the hunt bro, you know that right? I should have been able to kill a stupid bear.

Oh wait.

I did.

I killed it. I was on the ground and hurt and I killed it and called Bobby. Wait. Why did I call Bobby? How bad am I hurt?

Shit.

You're not hurt are you Sam. It's me…right? I'm hurt…

…

…Am I dying Sam? Is that why you are here and not at school. Am I…?

The darkness is back, dark and thick and I can't breathe Sam I can't I…

SPN

Sam had fallen asleep beside his brother but the sound of raised voices pulled him slowly out of the blankets of sleep.

"_Listen. Sam's in there. And unless you want to get in a screaming match and get kicked out, I wouldn't wake him up." _Well that was Bobby ripping someone a new one…_"One more thing, John. That girl who you talk to, she wasn't kidding about how bad he looks, John."_

John. Dad! Sam's eyes flashed open to the half closed door being help by Bobby's hand.

"_Let me in, Singer!" _His Dad's familiar deep timbre sounded through the room. As much as he spent most of the time angry at him, he had never been as happy to hear his voice. _"My boys are in there and one of them is hurt. Move."_

My Boys. Yep. That's us. He squeezed Dean's arm harder. "Da's'ere" he muttered sleepily. Sam closed his eyes and pretended to sleep again. Years and years of practice had made him an expert. The only person who could see through his fake was unconscious next to him.

Suddenly Dad was there. Standing at the foot of the bed. Sam kept his soft snores even and steady. The pull of sleep was luring him back in but he hung on for a few minutes.

John's pain breathing was the only thing that told Sam he was still there probably staring in shock at his oldest son's face. Because really, how else were you to stare at it the first time – he looks terrible!

"_I'm going to kill Dale Robson." _John whispered hoarsely to the room. Sam believe it. Dale Robson was so dead. If dad didn't, Sam would. Sure, he would have to get him bit by a werewolf first… technicalities.

Suddenly the bed on Dean's side dipped ever so slightly. The heat from John's body was tangible even from where Sam was laying.

"_Dean" _their father whispered thickly._ "I'm sorry. I was wrong to leave you without back-up you can trust. You gotta get better for me son. Please."_

Damn straight you're sorry. I left because I thought he would be covered!

The steady beeping of the machine jumped ever so slightly but Sam was aware. That rhythm was seared into his mind that night and the shift sounded like a gun shot.

He opened his eyes in worry t check on his brother and see what his father was doing. His eyes were heavy with sleep that was beckoning him but he needed to check.

"Dad?" he whispered.

"Yeah, son. It's me. Go back to sleep kid. You're both safe."

"Dean okay?" Sam asked dragging his brother's arm closer into his chest. And propping himself on his elbow. His father was here. And well he had sorta just promised Dean that he would never argue again. Well it wasn't exactly a promise, but still he was going to try for Dean's sake. His heart rate at least seemed to be slightly aware what was going on.

"Yeah. He knows I'm here though." John answered. Sam watched his eyes traced Dean's hand and battered and IVed arm to his silent, cold face.

"Good. I know he would want you to be." Sam murmured "I didn't think you would come, though."

John brushed his knuckled across Sam's arm and gently pushed him back down into the bed.

"I'm here, Tiger, I'm here." He sighed raggedly and threaded his fingers gently through Sam brown hair. "Sleep kiddo."

Sam watched his father quietly sit down and reach for Dean's shoulder. For a moment he was ten years old again and Dad was here. Everything was going to be okay. He closed his eyes and settled down tucked around his brother's arm again. Dad was here.

SPN

He knew his father was gone again.

He had been there talking to Sam. Sam was asleep, judging from the snores.

The doctor was back judging from the ruckus.

Okay. And now Sam was awake again.

"_Doctor. How is he?" _Sam was worried. That much was obvious.

"_It's hard to tell Sam. He hasn't woken up. That is never a good sign."_

"_And if he doesn't?"_

"_He is in a coma Sam. He will die without life support right now. The long he goes without waking the more likely he is to go brain-dead and never wake up."_

Wow. Dude. I'm right here. Wherever here is in the annoying black fog and buzzing and spinning. Sam… it's spinning again. Make it stop please. Come on Sam, I never ask you for anything. Make the spinning stop. You did it last time I was… uuuh… aware?...

"_But he is not brain-dead yet?"_

"_No."_

"_Yeah. Dude. You hear that Dean. You're not brain-dead. So wake the hell up!"_

Chill, princess. I'm doing my best. I'm not even asleep as far as I am aware. How can I wake up if I don't think I am sleep? Wow now that is a brain twister. That could be made into one of those terrible think outside the box riddles you hate and I am so good at. Hah. Cause I'm better at you, that's why you… oh he is talking. I should listen.

"…_time. His body is healing nicely, he won't be able to breathe on that lug for a while. But the rest of his body is knitting itself back together like it is supposed to. He has been maintaining a constant body temperature since you're arrival and that has helped his immune system. So, we can only wait and keep him warm."_

"_I hate waiting."_

Way to sound like a petulant five-year-old Sammy. Yep. Not at all self-centered that one.

"_I know. That is the hardest part of any recovery. Waiting. I'll be back. You, stay there!"_

Hah. You were right. I think I do like him. I'm guessing I'm in the hospital and that is my doctor and that is who you were talking about? Yeah…. Sweet. Now go grab those paper and let me sign AMA! Really I am getting sick of this spinning black nothingness…. Sam.

SAM!

…you still there?...

"_Hey. The doctor's gone. I REALLY need you to wake up Dean. Please wake up Dean. Just open those pretty green eyes." _Sam stopped talking and the warm pressure returned to his side and hand and arm. The spinning instantly slowed and he could breathe again.

Yeah. Okay. I'm working on it Sammy. I'm trying… but right now. I really need to sleep. Dude, ifff I'm asssleep… how can I goooo back to ssssleeeep….

SPN

Sam was asleep the moment before. Dead asleep! So why was he suddenly awake?

His brown eyes flew open and he searched the room for the disturbance. Finally he honed in on his brother's brilliant green eyes watching him calmly in the dark.

Green eyes.

Open.

"DEAN!" he shouted, dropping his brother's hand and firmly taking hold of his face in gentle hands. The bruises were mostly fading but still he was gentle. "You're awake."

Dean rolled his eyes sluggishly. _No shit Sherlock._

Sam laughed relieved and happy.

Dean's hands weakly floundered for the tube in his mouth. Flopping not unlike fish as he weakly trying to get them to obey his command.

Gently Sam took hold of the thin casted and wrapped wrists and tugged them back against his chest ignoring Dean's halfhearted frown.

"Don't Dean. It's helping you breathe. The doctor said that you probably can't breathe without it."

Dean's eyes went wide with fear.

"No no, not like that. You'll be able to when you recover some more but right now you have to leave it alone."

Dean looked frustrated, then petulant, then angry, then scared, then lost. And Sam almost cried.

He was alive.

Dean was awake.

His survival rate just jumped up above sixty according to the doctor earlier. If his lungs staying clear he was going to recover just fine.

Sam set Dean's casted wrist down on the bed and reached for the call button.

"I'm going to get the doctor in here so he can help you get better. Then, I'm gonna wake Bobby."

Dean frowned and yanked weakly on his hand. Sam let go. "What!"

Dean settled his hand on Sam's lap and attempted to get his fingers to move. When they were kids, Sam had gotten really interested in sign language and would make Dean help him learn the signs out of a little stupid book. They were never very good. But they both were conversational. Sam's eyes went wide as Dean slowly spelled out a word being too weak to move his whole hand.

"Dad?" Sam asked. Dean blinked twice. "yes" - Standard Winchester communication.

"He isn't here."

Dean's fingers moved again.

"You – re – member – he – was – here – early – ier." Sam grabbed Dean's hand to stop him. "You remember him being here?"

Dean blinked twice again.

"You were aware?"

Dean looked really annoyed but blinked again.

"He was here." Sam was cut off as the door swung open and the doctor come it.

"Well, well. This is really great!" He announced coming to Dean side. "It is so nice to see you awake."

"So how are you doing?" the question was rhetorical, but Dean signed anyway. Sam laughed. The doctor looked confused.

"What?"

Sam kindly explained. "We learned sign language – sorta learned – when we were kids. He, uh, just answered your question."

"So you are aware. That's very good." The doctor said to Dean

_At least this one talks to me, not at me through Sam. _Dean thought once again petulantly.

"Um… what did he sign as his answer?" the doctor suddenly asked Sam.

"Oh he said he felt 'Crappy'." Sam chuckled.

The doctor ginned.

"That I believe. Okay I'm going to ask you some questions, Dean. Just to get an idea where you are in your physical recovery okay? You can answer yes by... Yes… oh I see you already know how to do that. Okay, good… or you can sign at your brother and he will tell me. Sound good. Yes. Okay. Tell me if you can feel this…"

It was long and tedious, but in the end the doctor announced that the nerve damage was surprisingly insignificant.

"You probably won't be able to feel the area here where you broke your arm very well for a couple of years, but other than that. You are in the clear."

Dean signed to Sam _HEISANASS_

"Sam? What was that?"

Sam blushed slightly "He said that it was good there wasn't more damage." He explained and shot his brother a withering glare.

_BITCH_

Signing with one partially-functioning-mostly-flopping hand was better than nothing.

Sam laughed softly and basked in the sheer joy of having his brother awake and alive.

"Jerk." He retorted easily.

The doctor smiled through his confusion at the brothers antics, wrote a few things down on the clip board and slipped out of the room.

Sam started at Dean. Dean stared back. Neither one noticed Bobby's presence until he plopped his hand on Sam's shoulder.

"S'good to have you with us mentally, kid." He gruffly quipped.

Dean rolled his eyes and yanked his hand towards the tube again with a frustrated grunt. He hands however barely moved as his eyes slipped shut against his will.

"Let him sleep, Sam." Bobby advised the youngest.

"Yeah. I just worry he will be disoriented when he wakes."

Sam was right. Dean woke up the doctor prodding and instantly started fighting. He fought the doctor, he fought the tube.

"NO, DEAN!" Sam shouted as the room began to flood with nurses. Dean's one half-way decent hand was closed around the tube down his throat and he was pulling at it in terror as he choked and coughed and threw punches for all he was worth. Before Sam could say a word, he was drugged back under and firmly restrained.

"Those – please – those aren't necessary. He – he was scared, and confused. Please. I'll keep it from happening again. Please he hates-"

"Sam." The doctor interrupted him gently. "He tried to extubate himself because he was panicked. That cannot happen and the rules are that he has to be restrained. As soon as he is waking up oriented properly, or as soon as it is removed, we will remove the restraints I promise."

"He hates being trapped. You're going to freak him. Hospitals are a cage to him." Sam pressed his eyes jumping skittishly from his fitful brother back to the doctor.

"We left enough room for him to be able to move his hands, just not all the way to his face. I can't remove them Sam. Not for you."

Sam closed his eyes trying to ignore the stinging behind them. Only after the room was cleared did he finally open them again.

Dean was pale and clammy. The circles under his eyes looked like ink and the bandage was so stark white it hurt.

The restraint around his cast was looser than the other, due to a severe lack of mobility, but where his right hand lay trembling on the covers, the restraint was strong and well fitted.

With a creak the door swung open and heavy footsteps quickly made their way to his side.

"Bobby told me what happened. I'm sorry I wasn't here just now." John said softly from somewhere behind him.

"Wouldn'a made a difference." Sam mumbled. "He didn't even recognize me."

"He is scared and hurting Sam. But he is also Dean. He'll be alright."

"Is that what you think? Huh! Is THAT why you left him. Because he is Dean and he is always going to be just fine. As if he can't die. Just because-"

"Samuel!" John thundered as silently as thunder could without shaking the room and waking the invalid.

Sam blinked but didn't back down far.

"No. You know Dean. You know him as well as I do and he has a remarkable ability to walk away from anything. And I DID NOT leave him without back-up. His BACK-UP left him to go to college and his sucky replacement for a hunt was a MORON!"

"I didn't abandon my brother. I left him safe with you." Sam growled.

"Safe! Safe! Really Sam, are you sick in the head? When have _I _ever been _safe _on a hunt?"

"Oh right, I forgot who I am talking to. You were never there. He kept me safe and cared for while you only showed up to drag him off and get him hurt. You nearly got him killed several times."

"You don't know what you are talking about! I never put Dean in a situation that he did not agree to."

"IT'S DEAN! He would keel over dead before disobey your orders. Daddy's perfect weapon."

"Is that what the matter is here? He obeys me."

"You don't give him – us – anyone a choice in the matter. But at least you're supposed to _try _to make sure they survive. That's I had to get out."

"Yeah. It's not like you didn't make that painfully obviously last time we talked."

"Shut-up! You know nothing about me or why I had to go."

"Nothing? Sam-"

A whimper hardly louder than a falling feather stopped John short. Both men spun toward the bed. Dean was watching them with big, hurt, dark, haunted, green eyes. His freckles were ink. He looked so young, so painfully young it made John's heart ache. A tear traced a path down his face as he watched them. Pure panic and pain written across his colorless features. He hands were straining and shaking against the leather bonds, his heart rate had jumped dangerously high, and his temperature was dropping…

"Dean." Sam gasped. "I'm – I'm so sorr…"

But Dean closed his eyes and turned his head as far away as he could with a tube down his throat.

Neither John nor Sam could think of another thing to say.

So clear was Dean's pain and terror at the restraints and their argument, that at last Sam couldn't watch any longer.

"I'm so sorry." He whispered and fled from the room while John drifted to Dean's side and closed his hand over his son's usually strong, slender wrists. Dean tried to pull away but lacked the strength.

Like a caged bird his fingers fluttered against his father's hand. "What?" John asked lifting his hand and following the movements carefully. Even in the midst of his panic he was attempting to communicate, and hand spelling John could understand.

_SAM, _Dean spelled brokenly.

"I'm sorry." John replied intrinsically understanding the unspoken implication as shreds of fatherhood surfaced.

_YOUDONTTRY._

"I do, Dean. I just forget…"

_PLEASGO_

So John went. He face fallen and defeated – a rare look for the battle hardened warrior.

He found Sam in the café and for a while they sat in silence. "I really messed up, Dad. I told him I wouldn't argue with you… He knows I didn't even try."

"That makes two of us." John replied and drained his coffee. "Go back up there. He shouldn't be alone restrained as he is, he'll freak. I'm going to find Bobby and get a shower. I'll see you later kid."

Sam nodded weakly but didn't look up. Eventually he returned to find his brother shivering and shaking in a fitful sleep. Sam grasped his hand and found himself back at square one.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I'm really sorry. Please don't die!" he whispered through his bangs, but for once, Dean didn't respond to his puppy eyes.

SPN

"Sam! Hey babe. How is everything?" Jess's voice was calming – soothing.

"Um… better but not great. How are you holding up alone? You made it home safe right?" he sounded nervous and unhappy.

"Yeah." Jess replied clenching down on her fear of Dean's condition. She would have to talk to Bobby later. "When are you coming home?"

"Break is over on Monday. I have three days before I start missing classes. I don't want to leave though. I might come back Monday night? Miss the first day… I can make it up."

"Listen sweetie. Take as much time as you need. You sound exhausted, get some sleep."

"I – uh – I am. I'm lying down. I sorta have his hand trapped, he is not going to be happy."

"Who baby?" Jess asked. _Be still my beating heart._

"My, um – my brother." He whispered.

"Is he okay!" Jess sounded shocked and worried… okay the worried part was completely real.

"I think he will be. He woke this morning." Sam sighed wearily.

"Oh that's great!" Jess almost laughed and cried simultaneously. "Was it bad?"

"Hunting accident in the wood. He got attacked by a bear." Sam replied, his voice hitching.

"So, you said you have his hand trapped?" Jess steered the conversation back somewhere safe…ish.

"Yeah, they have him in restraints since he tried to pull the oxygen tube this morning." Sam explained.

"I bet he won't like that, huh?" Whoops that might be a bit too familiar. "You make him sound like a bit of a freedom kinda guy. Hunting and all." _Yeah, Dean would HATE having his arms pinned even a little._

"Um, whatever that means. I really messed up. I got in a yelling match with my Dad and now De- he, um sorta stopped responding to my voice. The doctor said he'll be fine, but I hate myself right now."

"Oh Baby!" Jess felt her heart plummet, "You sure he is going to be fine."

"I th-think so… The stress of waking up restrained, unable to breath around the machine, and to see me and Dad yelling… his stress level went way up, but they brought it back down in medication, so he should be calm again when he wakes."

Jess didn't know what to say.

"You sound tired, Jess. Have you slept?" Sam sounded worried over her metal status and to be honest, she was worried about it too at the moment. She was also worried for Sam but that seemed to be the norm for the past few months.

"Not as much as I should. I've been worried for you."

"I'll make you a deal. I'll sleep, if you sleep."

"And they say you could be the best lawyer in California… that deal sucked! What have they been teaching you?" Jess teased him.

"Whatever. I'm exhausted and if you get to stay stupid stuff, so do I." He sounded like a petulant five-year-old. It seemed his brother's presence brought that out in him more than usual.

"Sure babe. Keep telling yourself that. One last thing… Um. How is he doing right now? ...your brother." Jess asked trying not to sound like she was prying.

"His heart steadied back to a normal pace and his temperature is coming back up nicely." He replied.

"And this has nothing at all to do with the fact that you are sleeping with him… right." Jess couldn't help the jab.

"Goodnight." Sam retorted.

"Love you be safe." She blurted out.

He chuckled, "Right back atcha Jess." And hung up.

Jess pictured them in her mind again. Sam clinging to Dean's hand as if seeking strength and comfort. Brown beside dark blonde. Flushed face beside cream. Snores to the soft click-whir of the vent. Just as the last time she had seen them.

Suddenly she remembered the other time they had slept side by side: Dark hair pillowed on Dean's shoulder. Congested snores matched to the soft breathing of the elder. Sam clinging feverishly to his brother, seeking strength and comfort.

Some things never changed.

And she never wanted them too.

SPN

Dean talked Sam into leaving Sunday night. That's right. Talked… well, he called it talking, Sam called it croaking. Whatever. Same difference.

He _only_ left after Dad promised to watch after Dean and stay until he could leave. And Dean promised to call Sam if he got hurt. Dean also had to stay in bed and recover, no running around saving the world and all the clueless idiots living in it until he could stand for ten minutes without collapsing.

"Sheesh, Sammy. PMS much! You're acting like a complete girl. Stop bossing us around, you're the baby sister of this family."

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Dean, you're hysterical. I can't control my laughter. I'm serious though! NO GETTING YOURSELF KILLED!" Sam wasn't entertained. _You think! _Dean could have won the 'understatement of the year' award with that one.

"Dude. Chill." Cough. Croak. Groan. "I'm fine." Sam glared. "I'm gonna be fine."

Sammy huffed and paced. "I'll stay." He proclaimed at last.

"Hu uh!" Dean snorted settling back and picking absentmindedly at the IV in his hand.

"I'll quit school."

Dean snorted "Don't even start bro."

"I'll come back." Sam argued, "Hey you need back-up and we both know, I am the best."

Deam smiled longingly at that. "You got that right Sammy-"

"Sam."

"SAMMY! (Dude, older brother rights here). You will always be the best. But come on kid, go back to school and normal and that hot chick I know you are hiding in your closet. I promise I will not leave my safety in the hands of another hunter again. Dad and I will be fine." (Okay, that is what it was supposed to sound like, and Sammy certainly understood what he was saying through all the coughing and froggie-talk going on)

Actually he definitely understood and looked none too happy.

But with a little more 'big brother wisdom,' he finally acquiesced. ("Yes, Sammy I know what that word means.")

Sam pulled Dean into a full-on secretly-much-wanted-by-both-individuals hug and – "Ew, Samantha. Really! My chick-flick detector is in the red right now" – Dean hugged him back as hard as he could anyway melting into his brother's chest like a well cut puzzle piece (although he would vehemently deny that).

Sammy cast one last longing look behind him at the ghastly-painted pillar of his childhood and shut the door. He brushed past his father muttering a goodbye of sorts. Gave Bobby a firm handshake and an awkward monologue. And left them behind him as he headed back to school.

Dean met his father's eyes as he opened the door. In typical Den manner, he grinned. "I'm fine Dad. Go get the sonofabitch and teach him table manners." Dean snarked waving weakly at his father with him good arm (good being used generously in this instance).

"Dean. Sam's right. I can't leave you here alone." John replied torn between lust for the hunt and loyalty to his son. Dean's eyes were far too old and perceptive as he gauged his father's face.

"It's okay Dad." He said setting his bandaged right hand on the side of John's chest for half a moment. "Bobby will take care of me." Even as he said the words his eyes flicked over to Bobby. Bobby looked sufficiently annoyed and long-suffering and begrudgingly accepting of the statement so Dean continued.

"I'll sign myself out of here AMA in a day or so, and lay up at Bobby's until I am strong enough to catch up with you. You don't need to be sitting around here with me doing nothing when you could be saving people's lives." His face was strong, set and controlled. Meeting John's tormented eyes, he offered him peace.

John ruffled Dean's hair affectionately, hardly registering how the boy leaned hungrily into the touch in a moment of weakness. "But you still have holes drilled in your skull." He weakly argued the father in him struggling just below the surface. His fingers brushed across the bandage hiding the terrible scars.

Dean screwed up his face in disgust. "Not the worst I've ever signed AMA with. Anyway, they are stitched up now so they are healing." He snapped back.

John's face cleared. If he thought too hard he knew he would have to argue, so instead he took Dean's word and ignored the stark white bandage. "I'll be in touch, kay Ace."

"Sure Dad." Dean replied with a sigh as John left. As the door clicked, his mask dropped as exhaustion finally won out, and Bobby was left to pick up the pieces of Dean's shattered world… _again._

As if his family walking out on him in the same day _once _hadn't been enough, they just had to do it again.

Bobby know Dean well enough to know just how deeply he longed for and how much he wanted his family to need him. He wasn't sure how much more of them leaving the poor kid could take. Everything Dean truly loved in this world could be counted on one hand.

SAMMY! (duh)

His Dad. (though Bobby was sure he absolutely _did not_ deserve his son's unreserved devotion.)

Baby (obviously)

And maybe possibly, if Bobby allowed himself a moment of selfish longing… Bobby too could be counted.

Bobby watched as a tear trickled down the boy's face were he still stared at the closed door.

"Sure Dad." He whispered again and roughly dried his face with his cast glancing warily at the only person left. "m'hungry Bobby." He murmured.

"Yeah. And how is the pain?" Dean would have clammed up at any softness so the question purposefully was posed in as annoyed a tone as he could get away with.

"I can go to a motel if you'd like. You don't need to put me up." Dean whispered picking at imaginary specks of dirt on his immaculately clean bed sheet. Bobby felt his eyes prickle again (damn dust) – so soft it was for the time being, the poor kid just couldn't keep up the bravado at the moment.

"Don't be an ass. You're going home with me." Bobby grunted gently cuffing the boy on the ear.

Dean offered him a half moment of heart felt gratitude before closing his face again. "Kay."

"Dean. The pain?"

"Which pain." Dean snorted. _Family or physical _went unspoken. Dean was just too damn tired to pretend and they both knew it. "I'm fine."

"Sure you are. So I'm guessing they are both ranking pretty high on the one to fifteen Winchester scale, huh."

"Sure." His voice had lost its life in the blink of an eye. "Everything hurts." _Head, body, heart…_

Bobby hit the call button. "Well, don't you worry none, you'll be out of here in no time. You total girl." He added for good measure. Dean blinked at him and offered a twitch of his lip. Bobby would settle for that.

A few hours later, when Dean woke back up (_huh, I don't remember going to sle – oh duh the doctor and that stupid IV_) he asked Bobby for his phone.

One missed call from Jessie.

_Hey Dean. I didn't think you would answer. I guess I hoped you might – _deep breath. – _Sam just got back. He – um – isn't saying much of anything. He keeps telling me he shouldn't have left you. _Dean cracked a smile at that. _I am SO glad to know you are awake. Just seeing you so still and dead looking has been giving me nightmares for days. _"Jess was here?"

He sounded shocked. Bobby simply nodded.

_So. Please give me a call when you feel up to it. I – um I miss talking to you. I just want to make sure you are okay. _Her voice hitched again and Dean could tell she was trying to hold herself together. Between him and Sam she was certainly on the edge of an emotional breakdown. _I'll talk to you soon._

Dean snapped his phone shut and looked at it trembling in his unsteady hand. "Hey Bobby could you dial her back please?" he asked huskily through his painful throat.

"You feeling up to talking?" Bobby asked as he punched in the number.

Dean shrugged his good shoulder. "She came. And she called. I owe her. I won't talk long."

Bobby helped him take a drink (shutting him up for he could open his mouth to complain) and gave him the ringing phone.

"Bobby?" Jess sounded a little unsure when she answered on the third ring.

"Hey sweetheart." He rasped softly in response. Jess laughed out a sob on the other end.

"Dean. Oh Dean!" she gasped. "I was so afraid for you."

"Aw, you know me. I don't die." He replied. Oops wrong thing to say.

"Don't say that!" she choked.

"Sorry. I – yeah that was a poorly timed joke." It was getting harder to talk.

"How are you?"

"Alive."

"You sound half dead." She retorted trying to lighten the conversation for his sake. He smiled in appreciation.

"Well, a vent tube will do that to you." he dropped the phone and burst into a coughing fit.

"Better?" she asked softly when he picked it back up and began breathing harshly into her ear again.

"Not really. Gonna have to-" wheeze "-cut this one short." Wheeze. "Sweetheart. Been-"…"-talking too much."

"Thank you for calling me Dean." Jess replied. He was getting the idea what his slack of response to her calls over the past month had really shaken her.

"I'll call you back." … "When you call." … "Kay?"

"Thank you. Thank you so much. Then I won't worry as much. Rest now you big lob! Goodnight."

"uhumm." And he snapped the phone shut. "Sure. Sure. Night." He whispered chucking the phone weakly at Bobby. It bounced on the foot of his bed but he was too tired to even be embarrassed at the sheer absurdly patheticness of the throw. It was lights out for now. Tomorrow he would be embarrassed.

Tomorrow he was out of here.

SPN

It was weird writing the phone conversation from Dean's side. That is the truth!

And YES! I finished the arc… well sorta did. The next chapter has a little to do with this. You'll see. Back to the fun relationship between Dean and Jess coming up (with a heavy dose of Sam on the side). Actually Sam is taking a much more prominent role in the future I think.

I couldn't resist putting Dean in restraints, or having Sam sleep on them. It was kinda funny.

Please PLEASE tell me if you like this story. Feedback means so much to a writer.

~Kiliana


	17. It's only a flesh wound

Agh, I'm so sorry it took so long to get this posted. But I'm back and I brought a nice long juicy chapter with me for your dining pleasure.

I have a new story posted for those of you who haven't checked out my stories in the past few days. It is a Bobby and the Boys with a nice smattering of John. Written from Dean's perspective. "Bobby's Certifacrit" is the name. ("The Dark Side" is another if you haven't checked it out. A tag to the episode DSOTM. A much of hurt/angst!Dean if you're into that. Caring/worried!Sam. probably one of the darkest emotional fics I've written yet.)

ANYWAY!

Thanks for sticking with me in this story. And thanks for the reviews.

I wrapped up the 'Smoke on the Water' arc and this is officially the end of those strings.

Enjoy.

~Kiliana

* * *

Sam was pacing a hole into the floor.

"Just call him already and see how he is doing." Jess sighed in frustration. Sam glanced at the phone he had in a chokehold and went back to pacing.

"What if he doesn't answer?" he sounded like a little five-year-old afraid his brother won't open the door.

"What if? You adorable frustrating dweeb! You'll never know unless you try. And I think he will. After all, you went to stay with him." She was really tired of his whining.

"You don't know Dean. He might not." He retorted. Jess felt her neck prickle. _Yes I do you ass! How dare you say that! I might know him better than you at this very moment. No, breathe, calm down girl no need to get angry at your clueless over-grown two-year-old._

"Sam. Call him or I won't make you dinner." She said harsher then she originally intended. It came out more of a threat than a joke. Sam took a half step backwards.

"Are you blackmailing me into calling my brother?" he was incredulous.

"Yes." Jess retorted smugly. So, maybe it had been more of a threat than she had meant. But hey – if that is what it takes to get them to talk. "Now call him."

So Sam called.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Beep. "Hey this is–"

Sam shut the phone. "He – he didn't answer." He mumbled unhappily.

"Did you leave a message?" _come on idiot. Give him a chance. _It took all of her strength not to roll her eyes at him. Instead she pasted on a doting, sympathetic look and rubbed his arm with her hand. The lengths to which she went when taking care of this wacky family called Winchester… unbelievable. She really _was _turning into Dean, the manipulative sob.

"No…"

"So…" Yep if threatening the lack of dinner (which wasn't an overly high priority of his anyway) didn't work. Pleading and being supportive would (She was pretty sure she learned that from Dean somewhere in their zany relationship.

Ring. Ring. Ri-

"_Sammy_." Dean croaked unexpectedly on the other end.

"Dean!" Sam slumped in relief and shakily laughed. "I – I thought you weren't gonna answer."

"Hmmmm… …so did I." Dean replied after a moment. "Wasn't gonna. Throat don't feel so hot."

Sam took a long shaky breath. "How and where are you?" he blurted out.

Dean chuckled rustily, "I'm at Bobby's.

"Since when!" Sam snapped at Dean's obvious avoidance of the answer.

"Come on Sam." Dean huffed annoyed.

"No. Dean how long have you been at Bobby's? Don't lie to me." Sam persisted. Looking at him now, Jess wouldn't have believed he had been too nervous to call two minutes before if she hadn't been there in the front row seat. A smile twitched at her lips as Sam tried to metaphorically corner his brother.

"Been her since I was released." Dean replied.

"Released or signed AMA? And you still haven't told me how long." The edge dropped out of Sam's voice instantly as he employed his most effective blackmail card. "Please, Dean last time I saw you, you were half dead."

Dean groaned in defeat. Of course Sammy would guilt trip his older brother. How many times had they don't this dance over their lives? Thousands. How many times had Dean caved? …thousands.

"M'fine S'my." He croaked.

"Dean." All it took was that one word.

"r'noying, ya know." He grumbled. "'v'bin here four days. Signed AMA day after you left."

Sam groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Why couldn't Dean be reasonable? "Why! Hospitals aren't trying to kill you. You could stay and get better."

"Naw. Hate that place." Dean retorted carefully casual. "No hot nurses. Third sponge bath from a Sumo Wrestler and I was out of-"

"Where is dad?" it came out a whisper.

"Sam." That was definitely a warning.

"Damnit! He can't stick around for a week? He gonna die of boredom taking care of his own SON!" the blaze of anger was painfully familiar. How many times had Dad left Dean in his own blood the second Dean could draw enough breath to mumble out his good health? Sam could remember each one with horrifying clarity. Dean, curled in agony, whispering to their father that he was gonna be fine. John could go. And John left – beat a hasty retreat - left Dean to cripple through the next few weeks with a little brother's clumsy help.

Sam roughly kicked his shoe across the floor, absurdly pleased when is smacked into the wall. He stomped into the bedroom and slammed the door so Jess resorted to listening through the crack.

"Sam!" Dean snapped back through his voice broke painfully as he did it. He dropped it huskily to a less painful octave. "He promised you to stay until I was out. I'm out. And he isn't far. He's sticking close, but you know dad. He hates not being able to hunt the fuglies and stop them from hurting people."

"Just stop." Sam sighed realizing somehow through the haze of anger that Dean was probably in terrible pain and did not need Sam yelling about Dad. "Please. I don't want to argue. Just – just how are you, really?"

"M'fine."

"Lier!" Sam was firm.

"Fine. I have three partially healed crushed ribs and a half healed hole through my lungs. I have three partially healed fractures in my left leg, a half healed crack in my left wrist, a bruised side that hurts to touch, a raw skinned right wrist, a cracked orbit and cheek bone on the left side of my face, and three holes drilled through my skull. I can't walk on my own and I get dizzy whenever I try to stand. I'm peachy!"

Well, no he wasn't, but he was certainly pissed at the situation. Dean was almost certainly imprisoned on the couch or in bed, defending on his stubborn streak verses Bobby's, and was probably wilder then a caged beast.

Sam scrubbed at his face and sat down. "Why aren't you in the hospital?"

"If I take it easy and make sure to keep my bandages clean I'll be fine, mother hen."

"Ten days ago you had a fifteen percent chance of survival." Sam replied feeling nauseous at the thought. Damn, his brother had almost died _again _and he would have been too late. "Dude. You sound like a frog with laryngitis. Plus, you have holes in your head."

"So do you, Jill!" Dean retorted.

"Huh? Why am I Jill?" He wasn't even going to touch the holes in his head jab.

"Cause I'm the one that broke my crown, genius." Dean retorted as huskily as before.

"Naw, You're not Jack. You're Jeremiah." Sam shot back easily.

"I don't remember a Jeremiah rolling down any hills or falling off ledges." _Confused the big brother. Score!_

"No, but 'Jeremiah was a bull frog! Duhn-duhn, duhn. He was a good friend of mine'." Sam sung out badly off key and Dean broke into choked painful chuckles.

"Dude. Ow! Don't make me laugh." He gasped wheezing in sharp gulps of air.

Sam laughed back. _Heck yeah! Points for the geek bother with no taste in music._

"Dude. You just totally sang a hippy song." Dean certainly sounded less crazed.

"Yeah. I know." Sam replied softly. "Promise me you will go back to the hospital if you get sick. Please. I don't want you to die."

"Kay, Princess, get your panties out of a twist. I'll go if I get worse then I currently am." Aaaaand, big brother was back in full swing and 'perfectly fine' again.

"You know, with everything you've been through. I'm surprised you don't look like a patchwork quilt." Sam remarked dryly.

"If you EVER call me Frankenstein, I will waste you!" Empty threat sure, but Sam got the idea.

"Okay, how about Frankenstine! Lady version. Seems to fit better."

"Hardy. Ha. Ha." Dean drew in a ragged breath. "It's getting hard to breath, kid."

"Sorry. Sorry. I made you talk too long."

"I's'kay" Dean replied. "I miss snarking at my baby brother."

Sam felt his eyes burn again. "Yeah. I miss you too."

"Woah! I never said I miss you. Sheesh. What a girl Samantha."

But Sam just smiled. That was definitely Dean language for _I love you, I miss you, stay safe…_

"Whatever, Dean. Don't even think about saying another word all evening. Make Bobby play charades, you need to stop talking, sounds like you gargled thumb tacks."

"um hum. Thanks, Sammy."

"It's Sam."

"Whatever. Night."

"You too."

And the line went dead. Sam stared at the phone for a long time before heading back out to where Jess was baking cookies. Yeah, she had been cooking the whole time. The WHOLE time. Nope no listening in, no laughing and silently crying…

"So. How is everything?" she asked (Totally not asking for her own sake. All for Sam's sake ONLY)

"I don't know. Frustrating stubborn ass. He would say he was fine even with a leg cut off!" Sam grumbled. "Remember that scene from "Monty Python and the Holy Grail."

"Which one?" Jess remembered far too many scenes from that movie…

"The bridge scene where the knight gets all his limbs cut off and sits there spouting 'it's just a flesh wound." Jess nodded and chuckled softly. She could tell where this was going.

"Yeah, you got it. That's Dean." Even Sam had to smile at the ridiculous comparison. "But, I called, so is dinner ready?"

"Not yet, but it will be soon."

"Okay. I need to study for a quiz tomorrow. Call me when we're ready to eat."

"Okay. No problem."

They were talking! Oh thank you God for that massive blessing. They were talking again. Jess did a quick happy dance around the kitchen laughing to herself until Sam poked his head in with a quizzical expression. "What_ are _you doing?"

"Um… nothing at all. Letting off energy. You know… go back and study!" she replied goofily.

He cocked his eyebrow and shook his head. "Weird."

Jess pumped her fist the moment he turned away. "One for Jess. Zip for da boys!" she whispered.

SPN

The next few weeks flew by like a dream. School was a complete nightmare. Jess honestly couldn't remember the last time she had had so many papers back to back.

_Dang. I really dropped the ball on planning my school schedule if this is the way it's gonna be this semester – AWOL sounds pretty good to me._

She glanced around the study hall absently, noting the people and their various activities before flipping her phone open.

It rang. Once. Twice. Three times and – Beep. "_Hey this is Dean." _Drawled his _incredibly_ smooth voice._ "Leave your damn message. I'll call if I want."_

_You know. _She thought to herself. _It should be illegal for people to be able to talk like that. Seriously. Take pity on the female popula- _BEEP.

"Oh hey Dean. Um. Wow I completely forgot what I was going to say. I got distracted by your answering machine. You know given how much I was calling it I should be used to it, but, hey, at least Bobby picks up. Speaking of which. If I get a call from him and find out you're in a hospital or dead, I'm going to kick your ass. If you're dead, I'm going to wake you up first and _then _kick it. Okay? So…don't be dead. But yeah. I'm studying – yeah I laughed too when I said that the first time – I have written at least four complete papers in two weeks and I have one more to write, its driving me crazy – hence the call to you. The best remedy for crazy is to call _more _crazy and have a chat. So, give me a call and save me from the pits of my despair! AAGH kind hero speed quickly to this fair damsel's aid; I fear my resilience is fast draining away. Not much longer canst I hold on. The night is full of terrors and at the rising of the sun the crows gather for the feast… I am SO bored. Call me... before I fill your inbox with this very long – long – long – boring – message of despair." Jess snapped the phone shut and dropped it on her book.

Leaning back she closed her eyes. There was no way she was writing or reading another word for the next hour.

Thirty minutes later, her phone rang.

"Dean?"

"Eeeelo. Ees dis dah laydee m_ooooo_re?"

ummm... "Yeah…"

"Aaaah" snort-cough "goooot. Mee mayster" slurpy-snort-smack "dah lurd weechister sayed yous gonna hava seeve youseeelf" cough-annoyed-huff "Deem crows ees mighty fine creeters. Eef dey're hunree day're gonna hava eeet somptin. Hopa yuoo survif" wet-snuffle.

The line went dead leaving her slack jawed in shock.

_My master the lord Winchester. _Okay. She got that much. _Said you is going to haft to… save yourself. _Hah the jerk. Save herself her foot. She was supposed to be a princess. _Them crows is mighty fine creatures. If they're hungry they are going to have to eat something. _What…? _Hope you survif…_ Oh survive. That little… okay big but still… "the nerve of him!"

She quickly dialed back.

"Listen up Kid!" she snapped the moment the phone connected. "Didn't you Pap never learn you no manners!"

"shing s_eee_rah chang-go-pleek. No tingo nah ha ting yang." She was answered in… Chinese? Vietnamese? Complete gibberish… the later was probably the most likely. After a split second of surprise she adapted.

"I'm sorry, didn I ring da nail saloon?" She snarked in the same growly redneck voice.

Dean promptly spouted off a long string of very oriental sounds and hung up.

Jess chuckled. If they were going to play this game she needed to come up with a better accent. Redneck and princess apparently weren't cutting it with his Hobo and Chinese lady acts.

This time he picked up the phone second ring and it sounded like he was…sucking his teeth clean?...

"Low!" he basically shouted into the phone.

"Hello sir…" she drawled in the most disinterested, bored sounding east coast accent she could achieve. "My name's Wolfshlegestighner Valfstedler and I'm calling for Morton Salt Co."

"Huh! SPEAK UP!" he bawled into the phone.

"MORTON SALT!" she howled back. Oh yeah, she was turning heads. "All you need to do is answer one easy question and you can be the winner of a year's supply of salt."

"Huh? SALT?" He hollered.

"YES SALT!" she returned. The students in the room were _all _staring now.

"I don't know, I USE A _TON _OF SALT!" She had to pull the phone away he was yelling so loudly directly into the mouth piece.

"If you can finish this line."

"WHAT FISH ON WHAT LINE?" he yelled excitedly.

"NO FISH SIR. FINISH the SAYING. When it RAINS it Whats?"

"It WHATS? Rain doesn't 'what' you crazy person!" he bellowed at her.

"FINISH THE SAYING. When it RAINS it…"

"DROWNS ALL THE FROGS!" he yelled. "YOU SHOULD'A SEEN MY POORCH LAST STORM. We're talking THOUSANDS DEAD."

"That's nice. But finish the SAYING! When it RAINS it…"

"RUINS THE SALT." He shot back.

"NO."

"OH THAT'S A SHAME. I guess I don't get all that…that… (HONEY)" he bellowed pulling the phone away from his ear and presumably yelling at an imaginary person. "(What is the white stuff you put on my mash when I take out my dentures? Oh thanks) SALT!" he bawled in her ear.

She was pinching her nose to keep from laughing. The image of Dean in dentures… priceless.

"HAVE. A. GOOD. DAY!" she yelled at the phone.

"HUH?" he shouted back…and the line went dead.

Jess glanced sheepishly around the room at all the staring students.

"Sorry. That's my cousin. He is in the air force and… never mind. We'll keep it down." She apologized. Someone laughed. Someone snorted. And everyone went back to their work.

Dean answered the first ring.

"Dean." Jess giggled before he got a word in edgewise. "I just howled my head off in the study hall and everyone was staring."

Silence.

"Dean." She hissed.

"Brrrreep" he chirped like a cricket on the other side. "Brrrrrreep brrrrrrreep brrrrrrrreeep."

"Oh. Listen to the crickets. My, I guess he must have fallen asleep." Jess cooed in her most patronizing voice. Somebody was ex_tremely_ bored and probably long overdue for a nap...

"Whoooo Whooooo are Yoooooou talking Toooooo." He hooted.

"You are SO _weird_ Dean." She laughed softly trying to keep it quiet after the last episode. The brothers were SO different sometimes. Dean was just weird!

She could _hear _him smile over the phone. "Yeah. Takes one to know one." He retorted in his rougher than usual heart-breaker drawl. "So dying over papers. What are you writing about?"

She told him the subject matter and purpose of the paper. "I hate it, Dean. I don't even know where I _stand _on the issue and it doesn't have anything to _do _with the class and I only _have _to do it because if I don't, I lose a letter grade for 'failure to submit assignment' when the assignment is a waste of time." She ranted.

"Okay. Take a deep breath and tell me what you _do _know."

Jess took the breath and then proceeded to talk Dean's ear off for half-an-hour about the subject and the data, what the teacher kept saying, and what she thought of it.

Dean chuckled when she finally ran out of words.

"Write down exactly what you just told me and you have a smashing paper. Oh and I'll email my notes to you. I got your thesis statement here, and five topics with six sub-topics each. Plus a bunch of info I snagged along the way. Jessicamoore Stanford dot edu. Right?"

"You what?" Jess stammered flabbergasted.

"Really. It's not that big of a deal. I used to sit Sam down when he was stumped and do the same for him." He replied nonchalantly.

"You just took notes on my rant?" Jess asked still hung up on her shock.

"Would you rather I delete them?"

"NO!" okay, that was rather loud… sorry again guys. "No, just. You didn't have to do that."

Dean coughed uncomfortably and "ofcourseIdoformylittlesister" he blurted softly. It took her a moment to process that.

"Dean you are the absolute best! Thank you so much."

She could hear him shift uncomfortably on the other end. "Um…well…get your ass in gear and start writing, woman!"

"Hey, before you go. How is your recovery? Your lungs and throat sound fine."

"I'm fine."

"Dean…"

"I've been up and around. My legs splinted but I can put weight on it. My wrist is stiff but mobile. My chest is mostly fine and my head is healing. Tada."

"Good. Thanks for all this. I feel really refreshed after yelled at some random old guy."

"Oh that was Bobby."

"IT WAS NOT!?" she gasp-shouted.

"Nah, but that would have been awesome!"

Jess would rather not even think about that can of worms.

"I got the email. Thanks…wow…that is really a lot of information."

"Hey. Nothing there that didn't come out of your own mouth, sweetheart."

"Thanks Dean. You really are the best."

"Better than Sam?"

"Must you depreciate the compliment?"

"_O_kay." He said quickly, emphasizing the O and drawling out the kay. "You just switched into English or something-r-other paper mode. Have fun writing while I torment Bobby into bringing me food."

Jess smiled fondly at that image. "Bye Dean."

"Yup." He popped the P and killed the line.

Only _after _he hung up did she remember all the questions she wanted to ask him about his Dad and Bobby and details about his recovery _other _than what he had told her. _Oh sigh. Just another day in the life of 'you know the bloody Winchesters, get used to never getting the information you want and only EVER getting headaches and heartaches and DON'T LOOK AT ME YOU IDIOT, you didn't HAVE to go shoving your nose in their business.'_

Jess opened a word document and copied over Dean's email and set to work. _No wonder Sam always got A's, Dean is a master at note taking and putting stuff in the right categories. If Dean did this for Sam for most of his papers on high school… wow. Just wow._

Jess set aside the phone and got to work.

The paper was submitted and came back with an A+.

Sam complimented her on the succinctness of her argument and the arranging of the information. It was a solid argument she had created. Yeah, he was a lawyer, and she had a feeling he learned how to be one from Dean and high school papers.

Dean sent her an email a few days after their conversation with a picture of a porch covered in dead frogs. It had a title. "Bobby's porch a week ago after it rained…that old man should won the salt."

Jess laughed.

Two days later she got a box in the mail. It wasn't big, hardly bigger than a…child's tiara. She just about keeled over laughing in front of a very puzzled Sam.

"What?" he asked in his typical 'I've-been-left-out-of-the-joke-and-I-don't-like-it-because-deep-down-I'm-still-four-years-old' whine.

"It's – It's a – a crown!" She managed at last.

"I see that." He retorted.

"Ohhhh. I'm going to kill someone." She chuckled and put it on. "How do I look baby? Like a damsel in distress in need of a white knight?"

"Ummm, that depends on the white knight is." He replied obviously concerned about the identity of the sender. _Dream on baby, this sweetheart has her own little secrets!_

"Maybe you can be my white knight, the other left me to the crows." She giggled.

"There is another?" he asked alarmed.

"No silly. It's an inside joke from an old friend." She kissed his cute confused dimples. "Don't worry baby, you're the only one for me."

That seemed to satisfy the boy. "Whatever." He said. He kissed her as he left for class.

Duh she would get the machine. "Why you ridiculous lout, Sir Winchester! A crown? All this even after your servant left me for the crows? I feel affronted!" she snapped the phone shut and went about her day.

Two hours later.

"Hello Dean." She crooned.

"Soooo… you like it?" he chuckled.

"I don't even believe you right now." She said wishing she could punch him in the shoulder for good measure. "And I am punching the couch as a substitute for your face." She added.

"Ouch. That's harsh."

"Sam was completely miffed. Got his lost puppy face on and everything at being left out of the joke." She giggled.

"hm. Spoiled brat. But that one's on me. Anyway, you should have seen the look the lady at Walmart gave me when I bought it."

"You bought my crown at _Walmart_!" she exclaimed in mock disgust.

"Yeeeeeah… Does that deserve capital punishment?"

"Uh, _yeah! _Off with the lazy lob's head." She shot back.

"Hate to break it to you genius, I'm on the phone…"

"So no killing you in person? Dang."

"'fraid not."

"Well I'll settle for a long distance murder."

"AAAGH! HELP I'm DYING!" he bellowed. Jess laughed at his groans and murmurs of abject misery. "Shit!" he said out of the blue breaking off his little enactment. "No, Bobby. I'm fine – Really! I'm fi- whatever – Look, see. No blood, no dying, I'm on the phone! – Yes, it's Jessie. Duh, who else would I be fake dying at the top of my lungs for – oh, just leave already you old coot! Ouch! – no I'm not sorry – Hi again Jess, that went well." He sounded like he was about to burst out laughing. She was already rolling.

"Bobby thought you were for real?" she exclaimed in delight.

"Yeah, he's going deaf, couldn't hear the sarcasm –Bobby, this isn't your conversation, big ears!"

"So, not deaf?"

"No apparently not deaf, just eavesdropping." He chuckled. "I take back the deaf statement, he's like Dumbo!"

"Oh, ginormous ears."

"Hey!" Dean suddenly sounded very far away. "Give that back."

"Look you idjit." Bobby's gruff voice greeted her in the "kindest" manner possible. "You and me need to have a talk about letting that ruffian run his mouth. Denis is bad enough by himself thank you!"

"Oh but Bobby, What's the fun in that? Your life would be so boring." She crooned in delight at the situation.

"Boring's an under'preciated state I could use more of. Try keepin' this bloody aweful patient in one place fer a day, it's been two weeks. He's crawling the curtains and going stark raving mad."

"_No I'm not. They're too moth eaten to hold my weight." _Dean yelled from the couch supposedly. She almost laughed when he didn't pretest the 'going mad' part.

"I can only imagine! I feel your pain Bobby."

"Uh huh. You can feel it alright. Idjits! You're all the same. Unbelievable." He huffed.

"Thank you!" Dean snorted once again in procession of the phone. "He is using my splinted leg against me! It's about to magically transform into a club so I can use it right back!" he spat in fake anger presumably at the retreating Bobby's back. She could imagine him grumbling 'rambunctious good-for-nothing Idjits!' as he walked away leaving Dean to his antsing.

"I think he likes you! People whine and fuss when they don't want to own up to being fond of someone."

"You think! Ha, more like he wishes I was stuffed and mounted on the wall right about now."

"So you've been laid up for two weeks. How has that been?"

"I HATE it! You can only do so many one armed push-ups on a skinned wrist and weak lungs. I can't _stand _it! Agh I'm going slowly crazy. You wanna know why people go to nut houses?"

"Um, because they are crazy?"

"Because they get stuck in one place and go _insane_. Jessie, you will visit me in the metal institution, right?"

"Nope. Crazies go there and I'm not crazy."

"Sweetheart, you _are _dating my little brother." He helpfully pointed out.

"Oh snap! Touché, you're right. We should all three of us share a padded cell."

"Oh that sounds great. We can have little tea parties in our straightjackets." He dead-panned.

"And wear plastic tiaras from Walmart." she added brightly.

"Nah, just for you and Sammy. Only princesses get the tiaras."

"I love how you make fun of him even when he isn't around to be annoyed." She giggled.

He undoubtedly was rolling his eyes, "It's a big brother thing."

"I think I just _might _have figured that out."

"Come as part of the packaged deal." He retorted.

"I like the deal! A boyfriend and big brother rolled into one. I'll take that any day."

"Hum, even though it comes with drama and death-bed situations on the side? Not to mention all the secrets and the lying by everyone involve included the girl-friend and her hush-hush relationship with the brother."

"Oh, if it didn't it would be boring." She drawled. "I can handle a little drama."

"You have _no _idea what kind of drama follows my family around, sweetheart. You've only touched the tip of the iceberg." He replied.

"Hey, give me a little credit here. I spent two hours at lunch with your father."

"Wow! Really? You met Dad? So, then you've seen about half the iceberg."

"Yeah, I met him in the hospital. Walked into him, literally. He scared the crap out of me at first."

Dean snorted, she thought maybe she could hear a hint of anger and longing in that snort, but it was gone too fast for her to tell. "He does that." He replied sarcastically. "Just don't tell that to Sam."

"Dean. Sam doesn't know I _know you_! Why would I _ever _tell him that I knew your father?" she exclaimed.

"True. But you are blonde, what can I say."

"Oh, so we're starting into blonde bashing jokes now, are we?"

"You betcha, sweetheart!" he chuckled but suddenly changed the subject along with his easy casual tone. "Hey Jessie, how is Sammy doing? He called that one day. I know he was really worried – he couldn't sit still kind of worried. How is he?"

"Well, he is worried. He called you the knight from the bridge in 'Monty Python and the Holy Grail."

Dean laughed. "Oh yes, I use to quote that sometimes, before he left. 'It's just a flesh wound!'" he said in a perfect accent. "Is he sleeping and eating?"

"Yes to both. Not sleeping as well as he should though. Keeps waking up." For a moment she fell silent but he could tell she wasn't finished. "I want him to call you."

"Oh Jessie, that can't happen. You have to understand he can't balance both of these worlds."

"Why! Everyone else balances college and family just fine!" she snapped.

"Jessie." He entreated her to listen. "Please. We are _not _the Walton's. When Sam left, he had to cut all ties, if he didn't, he would never be able to leave."

"I don't understand! You are not making sense!"

"Believe me Jessica. You won't ever understand. I got to go. Lunch is ready."

"Dean. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have go there, don't hang up mad at me."

Dean chuckled. "I'm not mad at you. Bye sweetheart, before Bobby wrings my neck."

Jess still figured the lunch thing was a fake. He always clammed up when she asked about his family life. "Bye Dean, take care of yourself so you get better before out tea party."

"Yeah, whatever." Dean shorted back and clicked his phone shut.

Jess shook her head and looked down at the phone. _Family drama no kidding. _

Talking to Dean was like cornering a wild animal, he was fine until you pushed too close, and then he sprang like his life depended on it.

When Sam got home she was singing 'Sir. Robin' at the top of her lungs. He merely shook his head and vanished into his study hole. Weird girl-friends.

* * *

So what did you think? I kept you all waiting for so long I left this all as one chapter for you enjoyment.

Review my friends and let me know what you thought. And I am looking for prompts either for this or for any other story. Wanna see something else between Jess and Dean? Shoot it my way.

Thanks, lovies

~Kiliana


	18. Smoke Signals

AN:Yes. I'm Back and posting again! Yippy Yippy Yay! I'll be finishing this story over the next few days. I'll spread the post out a little bit but not by much. Give time for people to catch up again.

Please forgive my lack of knowledge of the way cars work if any of you are car geeks. I have been dying to write this. I might also post the chapter as a separate story as well.

This goes back to the part of this story in the "Smoke on the Water" arc. This is what happened to Dean

thanks lovies!

Kiliana

* * *

Dean was seated in a lousy bar somewhere is Nebraska – he had forgotten where at the moment, it didn't currently matter much. As long as it had liquor he was happy.

He curled his hands around the Jim Beam that was apparently his only friend left in the world who wouldn't walk out on him. Okay, yeah he was drunk. REALLY drunk, and not at all happy. Wasn't drinking yourself under the table supposed to help you forget, not remember every DAMN thing that was EVER said to you by EVERY bloody person on the planet?

He groaned and gulped another shot right out of the bottle. People were giving him a wide berth, the crazy look in his eyes driving off everyone drawn to his charming profile.

He needed a hunt and he needed one _now_, damnit!

Almost as in answer to his prayers, the phone in his pocket buzzed against his thigh.

"Hhheello…" _Crap that sounded terrible_. He coughed. _Let's try that again_. "H-hello."

"Dean Winchester?" It was more a question than anything else.

"Well, shit..." he drawled. "I guess that's still right."

"Why? …You trying to change it?" The stranger asked disapproving of the obvious drunken slur to his voice.

"hhhhh… Who's askin'?"

"Names Robson, Dale Robson. I am in need of some help and Bobby Singer said you're the best."

"Doubt that." Dean growled and rubbed his very numb face. "What kinda help?"

"There's a Skin-Walker in Montana. Just outside of Helena. Mt. Helena Park. Can you give me a hand? I need'ja there by Wednesday."

"Sure. Whatt-tever man." Dean slurred. "Wednesday, Helena Park." He clicked his phone shut.

Skin-walker… almost as good as a pack of wolves. He finished his drink, left a wad of cash, and weaved his way to the exit.

The moment the cold air hit his face, Dean doubled over heaving into the grass. Ugh! Yeah sure he was going to be in Montana by Wednesday.

Dean hauled himself back upright and stumbled back into the bar. The tender's brows went up at his sudden, unglamorous return.

"nuther whisssskey." He slurred.

"Dude you have had plenty I think." The bartender argued halfheartedly as he began to fill another shot glass. But, as the tip jar smashed into the wall inches from his head in the dead center of the 'specials board,' his halfhearted denial exploded. He spun around to face the very drunk hunter, waving the bouncer over with one hand.

"Who do you think you are?" The tender snapped.

"I asked for another." Dean growled menacingly suddenly sounding dead sober but for the tilt of his swaying body. "Keep your pinions to yerself…"

"Boy." The bouncer rumbled from swinging his six feet six inches of muscle and fat over with practiced ease. "You're done. Either leave on your own power or I'm dragging you."

"You wowldent." Dean peered way up at him with steely determination is his dilated eyes.

In answer the bouncer grabbed his arm firmly.

Dean may have been drunk – too drunk to walk or see straight – but he was certainly not too drunk for his instinctual training to fail. Left hand caught the bouncer's wrist as solidly booted feet found purchase on the counter and he flipped himself out of his chair, over the back, and to a crouch on the floor. With no other option, the bouncer came along for the ride. The moment Dean made very solid controlled contact with the floor he twisted up on the wrist in his hand slipping the bone free from the socket with a sickening dull, sucking pop. Continuing the upward motion his fist smashed into the bouncer's jaw. He hit the ground like a rock and didn't move. Dean swayed, flailed wildly for the nearest chair and cracked his knuckles. "Damn." He muttered. "I guessss'ya would. Sor'ly, I don't like'oo be touched."

He looked up at the bartender's shocked and quickly reddening face. "Sorry. I'll leave." He swiped the nearest drink, shooting the rightful owner and deadly scowl, and downed it in one. After his little display, no one lifted a hand to stop him as he crazily wound back to the door. He found the correct handle out of the six he was seeing and slipped back into the cold. He was long gone before the police arrived.

Two miles and two hours later, his shaky hands locked the motel door behind him before he passed out in the middle of the room, face pressed up against the rough carpet.

If that Friday night had been rough, Saturday was a bitch.

Dean came to by bits and pieces. His head felt like Metallica was practicing inside and his stomach was rolling in tandem with the floor. The grubby carpet cut into his face like a bunch of sharp needles.

And that was only the start of the day.

After retching into the toilet for a solid fifteen minutes until he felt like seaweed and slithered to the floor – and after a freezing shower because the hot water was apparently on vacation – and after the coffee maker exploded and drenched him with boiling hot liquid, burning his skin and forcing him to take another freezing shower – after all that, the impala wouldn't start.

"DAMN IT!" he yelled swaying as vertigo mixed with anger and his headache ratcheted up a few notches. "Come on boby, not you too… DAMNIT! Damnit- damnit- DAMNIT! DAMN– SHIT – F…"

"Shut-up!" one of the tenants bellowed from the room next to his. "Shut your damn pie-hole. Some of us are _trying _to sleep."

Dean shot him a less than appropriate hand gesture but quieted his rant as he popped the hood.

"S'wrong with her?" the sleepy angry man asked stepping fully out the door, anger forgotten. "She is one gorgeous piece of art!"

Dean face softened and he practically puffed with pride. Hell the man had even called her a she! He was in the 'best friends' category instantly. "I don't know yet. She probably just needs a jump." He crawled in over her engine stretched out and relaxing on the engine in a way that only he could without putting weight on anything important.

"Well. My truck's the Chevy right there. If you need a jump, knock. He would be more than honor to jump an older sister such as your own. I'm making coffee. And hey, if you even think about bellowing anymore cuss words within earshot of my little Lily-Sue…"

Dean shot him an apologetic grin. "Sorry." He replied. As the man shut the door he leaned over the other side of the car and wretched again spitting bile on the gravel. "Damn, shitty bitch of a bender. I hate whiskey!" he growled softly, holding his stomach and digging a small flask out of his pocket. "Frigging hate it!" and he downed a gulp.

It didn't stay down long. The nice neighbor with the big mouth and a perchance for yelling at yelling people ended up having to give him a jump, he didn't say a thing about the puddle of vomit just gestured at the whiskey flask. "Remembering or forgetting?" he asked bluntly.

Dean grinned wanly and scrubbed a tired hand over his haggard face. "Both." He coughed. "Got ditched by my Dad and kinda left by everyone else too." He muttered unhappily.

The man eye brows went up and he studied the sturdy man in front of him. The kid, aside from clearly having one of the worst hang-overs he had seen in a very long time, was haggard, scarred, and weary in a way that spoke more of a veteran soldier than a kid. Despite his obvious youth, his eyes were old and broken in a way that no kid's eyes should ever be.

"How old are you?" he asked softly.

Dean looked up sharply to the man who was probably twenty years his senior who he had befriended in the _weirdest _of ways. Later he would blame it on the killer headache and the spinning gravel parking lot that made him want to puke. "I'll be twenty four next month." He murmured.

The man's eyes got bigger. He looked at least thirty if he was guessing down.

"Hey, don't be fooled. When I'm not…" Dean waved his hand vaguely and clutched at his stomach slightly, "girls can't resist me man."

They both chuckled at that, one painfully trying not to puke, the other painfully trying not the cry at the sheer pain embodied in front of him, stripped of defenses by alcohol and anger.

"Well good, cause you look like you just crawled out of a garbage head full of dead cats." He deadpanned.

"I'm Dean." The younger offered "I'd – uh – shake your hand…" he waved at the puke. "I don't think I should."

The man laughed at that. "Is'all good. I'm Mark Whitmore."

"Thanks for the jump man." She murmured patting the purring car.

"Hey no problem, kid. She's a beauty. Boss here was more than willing."

"Boss?" Dean asked.

"Lily-Sue likes it." Mark chuckled.

"She's Baby and she is grateful too." For a moment Dean waved before pulling out a faded receipt and pen from his car and scribbling down a few words. While Mark chuckled about 'Boss' and 'Baby'.

"Hey look man, I know this is weird and all that shit, but here is my number. I'm kinda a private investigator – don't give me that look, we are allowed to get drunk on down time. If you ever have anything weird happening to you, and it makes no sense and the police don't believe you cause… whatever. If you ever need help, and you'll know what I mean if it ever comes to that. Call me. Freek shit happens in the dark."

Mark looked down at the ten digits and shrugged. He really wasn't making any sense "Sure. Thanks. Listen kid. Lay off the whiskey, no drinking and driving."

Dean rolled his eyes and offered the barest hint of a real honest smile along with his favorite hand sign and took another swig.

"Let'm come." He growled and climbed into his car.

Mark went back to his room shaking his head and feeling sorry for young twenty-six year old who looked like he had been living a war. Those were the kind of families you heard about on the news. The horrible home where the kids had to fend for themselves against starvation and against their parents. Whatever Dean's life had been… Poor kid.

Dean however, was on the hunt for a new battery.

"Hey Bobby."

"Boy you sound like you've been swimming in whiskey." The redneck said instead of a greeting.

"Well, damn. Good ear."

….

"I'm sober enough to drive. Shut-up."

"Didn't say anything, kid."

"Headed to Montana for that gig."

"Dale called you?"

"Yeah. I need a battery for Baby though. That poltagerist musta killed the battery Thursday when she was still running. Wouldn't start up for me this morning."

"How'd yeah get to the swimming hole?"

"I have legs Bobby."

"Most of us do."

"Two miles away. I walked."

"Su-ure ya did. So battery?"

"Yeah. You got one lying around."

"Hell no, it's doing push-ups Winchester style."

"… … … what the hell?"

"Just get here without turning her off idjit."

"Push-ups?"

"Kid, you have a one track mind."

"So I have been told..."

"I bet."

**Click**

Dean stayed at Bobby's for a day.

"How well do you know Dale?" he asked around the open neck of his beer.

"How much are you drinking now'a'days?"

Dean gave him the patented Winchester 'get-the-heck-out-of-my-business-you-no-good-scum' look. Bobby convinced himself at one time that they had to practice it in the mirror together because it was exactly the same for each of them. Probably genetic.

"Whatever. Dale's new to the hunt, relatively. Been in about five years since his wife died."

"Damn, it's always something." Dean grumbled. Not like he had to say it, everyone who hunted knew that fact.

"Yeah. So far no one has complained about him. I do believe this is his first shifter that's why I am sending him the best help I know of."

"What couldn't find Dad?" Dean asked capping another beer with his ring.

"I'm gonna have to hide those things. Last one, no more for you. Yeah I couldn't find yer dad, but that's not why I am sending you. You are better at handling newbies honestly. Your dad might kill him."

Dean chuckled and downed half the beer in one swig swiping another beer as Bobby moved to take them away.

"Boy, you aint even recovered from your last bender yet. Slow down."

Dean shot him a completely blank look and finished the open one before capping the last. "I'm gonna steal the couch."

"Fine. Suit yer self." Bobby pretended not to be watching him as shapely as he was, but lately Dean was scaring him to death. Ever since he had spent the night in his brother's new life while Sam was delirious, it was like Dean was in a downward kamikaze spiral. He has completely stopped talking to Jess and was drinking his own bodyweight in liquor almost every week. He looked like shit and it seemed like the only thing holding him together was the black cord of his pendant.

Dean was out like a light, but Bobby sat up awake and watched him from the kitchen. The boy wasn't even sleeping well.

He was going to kill John Winchester for leaving the boy on his own to slowly self-destruct. It wasn't that Dean was actually suicidal, but he was wildly reckless and Bobby DID NOT want to be the one to call little Sammy, with the big trusting brown eyes half hidden by his floppy mop, to tell him his hero, who he looked up to with more love and trust than anyone else, was dead. Bobby did not want to ever make that call.

Never.

Dean worked on the car all Sunday and hit the road Monday. By Tuesday he was in Montana and in the libraries.

Wednesday came like the herald of doom itself. It was rainy and cold and miserable when Dean followed Dale's texted coordinates to another shitty Motel in town. He got out of his car pulling up the hood of his ratty hoodie and digging his hands into his jeans pocket. Hunching his back against the wind he sloshed to the peeling door.

"Feels like home." He grumbled as Dale swung open the door.

For a full minute Dale simply stared and Dean squirmed. "What!" he snapped at last.

"If Bobby hadn't…" but he didn't finish.

"If Bobby hadn't what?" Dean was getting annoyed.

"You look like shit." It wasn't an understatement. His eyes looked almost bruised and his face was paste in the uncertain light.

"You don't think I can do this?" Dean's voice dropped into a viciously controlled growl.

"I think you are a drunk wreck and more a hazard than a help." Dale snorted proudly.

"I think you're an ass." Dean replied calmly and quickly uncurled his significant build and stood up full. His chest expanded from his slouch to full size and his eyes flickered dangerously. For a moment the same blind rage that had overcome him in the bar flashed across his pale face wiping the weary half-dead expression into memory as his hands curled shut. He stepped up to the man who was a good three inches and thirty pounds smaller then him and got directly in his space. Dale blanched and backed up into the table. Suddenly being faced by over six feet and a hundred and eighty-five pounds of rage and sheer fine-toned muscle, where just a moment before had stood a slumped half-drunk kid who didn't look like he could walk straight… well, it was unnerving.

"Okay. I believe you. Bobby said you were the best." Dale agreed biting down on his own hurt pride and flaring anger.

Dean's eye narrowed and his right hand unwrapped from the gun Dale hadn't see it grab. "Good." He stepped away and promptly swayed into the wall, once again diminished back into the hung-over wreck that had first stepped through the door.

"You hit the bar last night?" Dale ventured pulling out a chair and situating himself in front of a stack of papers and books. When Dean did not volunteer a reply Dale continued without looking up. "Just I think you should probably not do that again tonight."

"I'll damn well do what I please." The kid snapped.

"Not if you're watching my back." Dale snapped back. "I'll drop you like dead weight!"

Dean's eyes flicked back up dangerous again though he remained slumped.

"This is not my first rodeo, you idiot!" he growled. "I've been hunting at least four times longer than you have."

Dale stood back up in indignation. "Like Hell you have, you're a kid!" he growled.

Dean stepped slowly, unsteadily back into his space and met his eyes squarely. "You've been in this life five years. I've been in it twenty. Sit your ass back down and shut-up."

Dale's eyes widened momentarily at the number Dean had said before his face hardened again. "Fine. You're a hunter, but you're still a drunk wreck of one. You sit down and let's get this done."

Dean, stubborn ass that he was, remained standing precariously until Dale sat down first. He folded himself into the other chair and dug out his own hunter's journal.

"So it's a shifter." He said flipping through his dog-eared pages and picking up a stack of Dale's research.

"Yeah. Not the common kind, I think it is a cousin to the kind we usually face who changes into other people. Native American Legends talk about certain kinds of shifters called skin-walkers who use animal pelts to change into those animals."

Dean nodded. "Yee Naaldlooshii" he murmured. "What?" he snapped defensively when he caught Dale staring at him. "It's Navajo for "With it he crawls." Or something like that."

"Dale grabbed the papers from him and scanned them to see what Dean was reading.

"Where the hell does it say that?" he growled. "It took me a few hours to find that out."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Does it matter." And he grabbed the stack back and flipped through them.

"So. We are dealing with a Skin-walker. What has it been shifting into?"

Dale fumed for a moment at Dean's attitude. He was not used to being one-upped by a less than sober kid. "A bear." He growled. "A very intelligent bear."

"Dean tossed the stack on the table and rubbed his eyes. "Yee Naaldlooshii are always witches." He yawned. "Guys more often than girls, have you got a suspect?"

"No." Dale replied more and more annoyed at Dean's obvious knowledge of the subject that far exceeded his own despite Dean having done no research or anything yet.

"Ant'jjhnii. Navajo witch. It may not stay a bear the whole time, they can switch to anything they want as long as they have the animal pelt." He continued unaware of Dale's growing scowl.

"Have you hunted one of these before?" he asked at last still bemuffled by Dean's display of information.

"Nope." Dean replied. "But I did an Indian project in high school years ago and used the opportunity to read and study about Native American legends of the supernatural. Honestly it was the only way I could keep myself interested long enough to get a grade."

Dale huffed.

"Anyway, the legends that say if you look into a Skin-walker's eyes they can absorb themselves into you is completely bogus." He said tossing a few pages carelessly behind him. "Also if you look one in the eyes you will not be paralyzed with fear." He said tossing another. "They only gain energy from you if you run away from them. If you stand your ground they can't absorb your energy. It's interesting actually that it's changing into a bear. That's considered a shameful thing to do."

Dale grunted again. "What else? All my research is inconclusive." he sneered the last one and Dean looked up with a smirk.

"It can't be killed in the skin-walker form, nor can it be caught. They are too fast for that. We have to catch it in human form."

"How will we know who it is?"

"Chances are it will be Native American. Also, when they are animal their eyes are human but when they're human their eyes reflect light like an animals."

"That's something. So how do we kill it?"

"Shoot the human form through the heart with a silver built, or say the Indian name of the person three times and it will die in three days. Since they are witches they can hurt us though. If they use their charms they can paralyze you with human bone dust. If they use corpse dust it can kill you."

"Corpse dust?"

"Ground powder maid from the finger-tip and skull bones of two twin infants sacrificed in a witch's dance." Dean replied. He flipped though his journal to a page covered in a kid's scrawl. "It's called An't'i."

"That's disgusting and sick."

"Yep. Any babies missing?" He sounded like he was inquiring after the weather and Dale was beginning to believe that he wasn't lying about the twenty years hunting. He was a sociopath.

"No. No one has reported missing twins in the state." Dale said.

"Good, at least our tongues won't swell up and suffocate us." Dean retorted flipantly.

Dale rolled his eyes. "What do Skin-walker's want with the dead humans?" Dale asked at last.

"Dinner. They aint human. The Navajo Indian lore of Yee Naaldlooshi is similar to that of the Kree lore about the Wendigo." Dale felt his ire increase at Dean's knowledge of the difference. Even he didn't know the Wendigo was Kree lore. "The Wendigo loses its humanity through eating other humans, but the witch loses it's humanity through murder of a close relative, incest, or necrophilia. They both feed on human flesh, but human flesh won't turn a witch into a Wendigo."

"So it wants to eat us." Dale clarified.

"Yep. Good news, it has to be human to eat us." Dean replied "Or else it doesn't feel satisfied."

"Oh. Great. So it kills us in an unkillable form and then eats us for dinner. Great."

"mmmhmm just like a fairy tale. When have the attacks been happening?"

"Mostly early evening, sometimes it has attacked after dark." Dale replied.

Dean kicked back out his seat, snagged his journal and flopped on the unused bed. "Yeah sure. So you do what you wanna do. I'm gonna sleep off the rest of my bender. Make a game plan in the morning and head out to be out there midafternoon?"

"Sure. Whatever." Dale replied. In a few minutes Dean was asleep. But not deeply, Dale had a feeling he was subconsciously clocking his every move ready to wake up and kill the moment Dale became a threat.

Dale stayed where he was, fuming silently and watching the young hunter sleep. Dean was good, he would give him that. He was smarter than he let on. The speed with which he had pulled some random Indian lore out of his head from early high school was actually impressive.

But Dale didn't like him. He was cocky, annoying, and irresponsible, drank too much and was still threatening.

To understand Dale, one would have to understand his past. His father who beat him, his mother who failed to protect him, the life in the army that started at eighteen. Dean was the exact opposite of the military in every way except the way he was trained. Any soldier would be jealous of his training! Any soldier but not any human. Dale's wife was killed by a monsters, but not his brother, he was killed by a drunk driver. A drunk driver who looked a lot like that stupid, smart, impossible, boy sleeping on the far bed wrapped around a bowie knife.

Dale glared at the sleeper for a few more minutes before finally walking directly to his bed a lying down. Even though the movement was direct and nowhere near the sleeper, he could see Dean stiffen without waking. No, he didn't really like that kid at all!

SPN

That next evening Dean met Dale's eyes with a cocky smirk. "If we wound it, we can track it and find it in human form because it will still be wounded. Use silver and it will burn. If we can get the silver through the tough hide, it ought to back off in pain."

"So it should run, huh?" Dale asked.

"Yep." Dean checked his mag.

Dale met his eyes square. "It's a good plan, Dean, given the situation. Proves that you have indeed been hunting as long as you said. See you on the other side." He saluted with military precision and Dean saluted back with wiggly fingers and a cocky completely unmilitary smirk. "Hell yeah." He cheered.

Stepping away, Dale watched the kid transform from slouchy, sloppy, and sarcastic – to all sharp angles wired tight as a trip wire. Soundlessly he flitted through the trees every sense on high alert.

Dale shook his head slowly. This kid could take down any monster you could name, and when he behaved like this – well – Dale almost felt bad for leaving him to play bait with no back up. Shaking his head in bitter-sweet enjoyment, he turned back to the road, hefted his hunting bag and headed for town.

SPN

It was the biggest damn beast Dean had seen in a long time. Full sized grisly.

"Damn, you fugly!" he growled as the monster stepped out of the trees. He hefted his handgun and stepped back. No, the little pistol was going to do nothing to the massive bear, but the high-powered hunting rifle Dale had in the trees was certainly powerful enough to pierce the hide and slow the beast down. If he hit the heart, they only had to wait until the shifter changed back into its human form and the heart was dead.

Slowly the bear reared back on its hind feet and roared. Then it looked Dean square in the eyes.

"You are a fool boy." It growled in very clear English.

"Nice trick." He retorted backing up against a tree. Dale was sure taking his time about getting that gun in position.

It growled and dropped on all fours stalking towards him. With one smooth motion he slipped his gun free and shot the bear in the face. That was the signal and Dale still wasn't shooting. Something was off.

The bear stalked closer. Dean hesitated a moment more before putting several more shots into the bear's face and chest. "Damn it." He cursed under his breath shoving the gun back into his waistband. "What is taking so long?"

"You're alone." The bear laughed. Dean felt his skin crawl at the growling deep evil roar. "The other one left, hiked for town. You are alone."

It took Dean one look in the Yee Naaldlooshii's eyes to see the truth. He turned to run and faster than light the beast was before him, jaws open wide in a terrible snarl. The huge paw ripped through the air across his face and chest and threw him through the air into a thick oak. It became clear to him as the blood gushed free that he was completely alone.

From the base of the tree his looked up at the massive animal before him. His hands fluttered against his torn chest and the world tilted dangerously to the side. "Whhha.." he gasped before the Shifter grabbed him around the neck easily lifting him off the ground.

The Yee Naaldlooshii drew in a long deep breath, drawing in Dean's scent.

There was a small snick as Dean slipped his silver dagger free before he trust it with all of his might into the bear's arm. With a howl of pain it flung him. He skidded through the moss scrabbling for a grip before suddenly the ground dropped away and he was falling.

Down, down and hard.

The pain was blinding. A scream of agony ripped it's way through his lips and the world blacked out.

Dean came to with a gasp. Pain was knifing through his body like shards of glass in his blood. He shuttered which made it worse. "Aaaagh!" he screamed, his voice raw and haggard.

"Oh come now, is that the way to say hello." A husky deep voice vibrated through his head shattering his thoughts even farther.

He winced and looked straight up into the animal eyes of an Indian woman.

"Hell, tha-at a w-way t-to intro-d-duce yer-sef?" he gasped as she dropped the bear skin away from her perfectly naked body.

"Oh dear." She cooed settling beside him and raking her fingers through his short hair and across his chest. "You smell so delicious."

"Your s-sick and n-nake-ed." He grunted back blood flecking his lips as he forced air out of his abused lungs. "L-lore s-ays y-your sup-posed to b-be a g-guy." He mumbled starting to lose touch of reality.

"Lore says we can be girls too. You know." She leaned in and trailed her tongue across his lips.

"Lit-tle f-fast." He gasped. "g-gon-na ask f-for a s-sec-ond d-date f-first."

The girl witch laughed and lifted his fingers to his lips sucking the blood off. "You taste like smoke and gun oil." She chuckled. "A hint of musk, and earth, maybe even a little incense." She laughed even harder. "Oh you're blood tastes like the earth itself. There won't be a second date."

BANG!

She gasped dropping to the ground as his other hand fell across his chest, the gun landing inches above the protruding branch.

Her hands flew to her own chest as she stumbled away bare feet tripping on the branches strewn around them.

"Ggggah! Y-you c-c-could be p-pret-ty if y-you weren't s-so d-damn f-freaky, BITCH!" he screamed clutching at the branch in agony.

She snagged the skin off the ground and threw it around her shoulders before lumbering heavily away into the trees leaving a trail of blood in her wake.

"Ooooh crap." Dean spat craning his head to look down at his chest. The branch was red, slick with his own blood. It was everywhere, frigging everywhere. "Oh s-serious crap!" he murmured his head thumping back against the dead trunk.

His hands were numb, detached, but luckily Bobby's number was on speed-dial. So was his father's, but the likely-hood of his father actually picking up was pretty slim and he probably only had one chance at this.

"Singer Salvage."

"B-bobby." His voice was hoarse and choked and he spat blood along with his words.

"Who is this! Dean? Is that you?" Bobby went from passive annoyance to gruff concern.

"S'me."

"You okay kid? You sound hurt."

"J-just g-got a b-bran-nch stuck th-through m-my ches-st." he stuttered.

"What the hell happened?!" Bobby demanded.

"Skin-walker's dead. D-Dale was a n-no show." He breathed. "m'dying here."

"Hang on kid. Where are you?" Bobby's truck roared to life in the background and Dean smiled faintly.

"F-forest where th-the p-peap-people d-die." He muttered.

"Okay. The forest I got it. Look, I'm on my way, you need to call 9-1-1 and let them trace your call. Put pressure on that wound. Dean? DEAN!"

"Wha… yeah. M'ere."

"Call 9-1-1. Can you do that? Dean! Can. You. Do. That!"

"Yeah." The boy's voice was hardly more than a whisper – bleeding away with his blood – with his life.

CLICK! Bobby threw his phone on the seat and slammed his fist into the dash. The sound was so final, so cold. That was Dean, dying… dying.

SPN

"911 what's your emergency."

"I g-got at-tacked by a b-bear. I'm d-dying h-here." Dean breathed down the line, his eye lids fluttering.

"Sir? Can you tell me where you are?" the lady on the other end of the phone sounded slightly more concerned.

"N…not s-sure. Gggah! G-got a bran-ch st-uck through m-my ch-esss'."

"Sir. Stay on the line. We are tracing your call. Is the bear still around?"

"S'dead. Kil'd it." Dean replied his breathing hitching up a notch as he started to fade again.

"Listen to my voice, sir. I need you to breath with me. In – out – in – out. That's right."

Lights and sirens and Dean blinked owlishly up at the shrouded figures and blinding lights. Somewhere along the way the sun had gone down. The horizon was grey. Dean moaned in pain as the blinding lights dancing around in his head.

"Sammy…" he gasped clutching at straws. He was missing something, someone. Where was Sam?

"SAMMY!" he yelled.

"Sir. Calm down, we almost got you loose."

"s-ssam. S'he okay?" he gasped flailing at the light. "Where m'I?" Hands caught his wrists, holding him down. He was trapped. Trapped!

"Sir. Calm. Down. Please."

"SAM!" he yelled hoarsely.

"Restrain him. I need him calmed down, he is tearing his lungs up. NOW people!"

"No. NO. please. Nnnnno…" there was a sharp prick that somehow punched through the unbearable pain. His body seemed to float or a moment before the flaring lights faded to pure black. "S'my…" echoed brokenly into the clear night air.

SPN

They let Bobby see him for a moment when they got him stabilized.

"Oh Dean." He growled through the HEPA mask. He brushed his gloved fingers over the bloodless bruised face blinking back tears. "Damn kid, you can't do anything halfway can ya." Stepping away he ripped his eyes away from the raged branch that was jutting through his kid's chest. "Doc?"

"We are taking him into surgery in about five minutes. Mr. Singer, you have to understand there is absolutely no guaranty that he is going to survive this. I put his chances of survival less than ten percent. If there is any family, call them." The doctor was straight forward, clear, Bobby hated the bluntness of such a terrible prediction but could bear no less then complete clarity without tearing his hair out.

Bobby nodded wordlessly and stared in shock as they rolled the gurney away.

"Listen John, I know we don't get along, hell I kinda want to shoot your ass full of buck-shot, but your boy is dying. Dying! Get your ass down here now! They are saying he has less than a ten per – just – just get here, you bastard."

Bobby sat down in some random hard plastic chair and rubbed a weary hand across his face. He turned the blood covered cell phone over in his hand. Dean's.

"Damn it kid."

* * *

I love Bobby. He is the bestest ever! I always love writing him interacting with Dean, cause Sam shows his affection a lot, but Dean is too walled up most of the time and is emotionally stunted at best.

Let me know what you think of this chapter. (I might have to write another one about the fall out. who knows.)

Please review, I'm a little unsure what y'all will make of this.

~Liana


	19. Bad Moon Rising

Chapter happens early March (I was getting lost in my own time frame. basically she has known Dean for over a year at this point)

So this chapter just happened. I wasn't sure how I was getting from point A to point F (I could use B, C,D, or E) so I started writing. I like it and it plays nicely into the next chapters that are coming (and finished). Let me know if you like.

PS: I may have this story "finished" but I am still writing it (alternate endings and the like) if you really have a way you want this to end, let me know.

Liana

* * *

Jess made it a point to call Dean once every two weeks. Sam had a class trip to some big law firm thingy this month. And yes she did include that tidbit of info in her latest message, in case mister Mac Roni wanted to call.

He called.

"Hey Jessie Jamary." He chirped when she picked up.

"You sound perky." She replied sticking the latest batch of cookies in the oven. _She ALWAYS made Sam cookies when he went out of town for longer than a day._

"So what if I am?"

"Well, I haven't heard from you in – oh, five weeks now." She retorted.

"Oh. So you're annoyed with me now. Is that it?" He replied cautiously.

"No, but Sam gets back tomorrow morning and I have just had three days alone here and you didn't call until now. I was beginning to think you were ignoring me."

"No." he sounded apologetic enough she decided. "I was out of phone coverage until yesterday. I _was _ignoring you the weeks ago when you called, but not Wednesday."

"Oh well isn't that comforting." She retorted. "So what are you up too?" she asked conversationally.

He chuckled but didn't answer.

"Oh yes I _know _you are always up to something." She replied peeking into the oven. He didn't answer. "Dean?" she asked after his prolonged silence.

"Yes?" he asked sweetly from DIRECTLY BEHIND HER!

With a tin whistle scream she spun around right into his waiting arms. "Jessie!" he laughed through her shriek punctuated rain of fists. "You!" slap "Horrible!" thwack "Wicked!" thump "Evil!" smack "Wretched!" fwack "Hateful, nasty boy!" she exclaimed until he managed to pin her arms in one of his hands and stroke her face, deftly avoiding her snapping teeth.

"Cut it out, cat." He growled, though his grin undid the threat.

"How dare you do that to me!" she laughed when he finally released her.

"I thought it would be awesome – and it was." Flashing her a megawatt grin, he closed her still connected phone.

Jess could help but grin at that. "So what are you doing besides scaring the life out of random lonely girls?"

Dean hopped up on the counter after helping himself to a beer from the fridge. "Nothin." He chuckled and tossed the bottle cap at her head.

"I'm almost done here, then you gotta come see what I plan on doing with the Living Room."

"Please no pinks or frills, though I understand if you have to keep Sam happy." He dead panned.

"Ha!" she snorted. "He actually asked for camo curtains and a roaring bear head on the wall." She retorted and Dean almost spewed his beer everywhere. "Gross Dean!"

"He asked for what!?"

"Camo curtains and a bear head." She replied as if it was the most normal thing ever.

Dean shook his head fondly for a moment lost in his own mind. "That little brat." He chuckled.

"What?" she asked, poking him in the ribs. He flinched at the contact and batted her hand away in annoyance.

"He stole my idea." Dean retorted.

"What?" Yeah, now she was confused.

"When we were little we use to play imagination games." He replied.

_-Years-before-in-a-random-motel-room-_

"_Dean." Sam whined for the eight-hundred-and-seventy-sixth-thousand-four-hundred-and-ninety-five-and-a-half time that day. Okay, so what if it was an exaggeration. Dean was the master of exaggerations. "I'm bored."_

"_Well, draw."_

"_I already did." Whiny, whiny, whiny._

"_Watch cartoons."_

"_Nothing interesting." Whiny…_

"_Play with your airplane."_

"_Did this morning." Whiiiiiiiny!_

_Dean flopped over on the bed and met Sam's eyes upside-down. "Fine. Jump on the bed."_

"_Really!" Sam's eyes lit up like Christmas and Dean ALMOST felt bad. _

"_No! Duh! I'm lying on it." He retorted snarkily._

"_There is the other." Sam said hopefully._

"_You know what Dad says about jumping in his bed." Dean replied dropping the comic book over his face and groaning. He could hear Sam's face fall back into his annoying whiny pout._

"_I'm BOOOARD!" Sam whined._

"_I KNOW!" Dean whined back._

_Sam made a gross spitting noise and Dean growled menacingly back from under the book._

"_Can we play 'If I ever?' Please?" Sam pleaded his voice suddenly acquiring the puppy-dog sound that usually accompanied his big brown eyes. Dean growled again but he was already caving, because honestly he was bored out of his mind too._

"_Fine." He tossed the comic book and rolled back unto his stomach. "If I ever have a what?"_

"_A House!" Sam shrieked and vaulted his six year old body onto the bed by his brother._

"_If I ever had a house I would have a swimming pool the size of New York in the back yard." Dean announced as Sam crawled all sharp elbows and knees across his back. "And a long stick to hit my brother with."_

"_Dee-ean!" Sam had a talent for making Dean's name sound like an accusation and battle cry at the same time. "You already hit me. Plus New York is too big for a back yard."_

"_Fine genius, you think of something."_

"_If I ever have a house I want a big squishy couch." Sam giggled._

"_If I ever have a house, I want the couch and camo curtains in the windows because frills are gross."_

_Sam giggled. "If I ever have a house I want the big couch and camo curtains and a giant teddy bear."_

"_You're such a girl." Dean grumbled. "If I ever have a house I want the squishy couch, camo curtains, the teddy bear, and a giant mean roaring bear head on the wall."_

"_Gross." Sam laughed._

"_Is not. It's cool!" Dean replied defensively._

"_If I ever have a house I want monkey bars!" Sam shrieked._

"_You forgot the rest Einstein." Dean mocked poking Sam until he screamed with laughter. "If I ever have a house I want a pool the size of Mississippi, a big squishy couch, camo curtains, a teddy bear for my dorky little brother, and a huge mean scary roaring bear head on the wall that will eat you for dinner!"_

_Sam could hardly breathe by the time Dean let him go. "You che-eat-ed." He panted and tried to tickle Dean back. Dean pinned his arms and pretended to sit on him. _

"_Did not."_

"_So did too." Sam replied trying to bite Dean's leg that was across his chest. _

_Dean chuckled and flipped Sam over pinning him squirming against his chest. "Go play runt." With a light push Sam scrambled off the bed and Dean flipped back to his book._

"_Dean, I'm bored." Sam began again._

Jess was laughing her head off when Dean finished miming the story with sound effects and voices. "He always was a pain in the ass." Dean chuckled fondly.

"Awe you say that as if it is the highest of compliments." Jess laughed giving him one last poke and heading for the couch.

Dean looked vaguely amused, "Sure it is, sweetheart, just keep telling yourself that." He drawled.

He hopped down and submitted himself for an hour of decorating monologue before she served him dinner.

"You look amazing. That time I say you, not so much." Jess said by way of conversation opener.

Dean flashed her his most charming grin and stuffed the whole muffin in his mouth with one go.

"That's gross Dean." She retorted.

He (of course) was indisposed to respond for a few minutes. "Whatever." He chuckled when his mouth was relatively clear – relatively being the key word.

"Jess!" A feminine voice called from the door as Bethanie Martin unexpectedly stuck her head in. "I brought you that recipe you have been ask – who the hell is that!"

Jess flew to her feet is surprise and mortification.

"What the HELL! Forgot how to knock Bethanie!?" she bellowed pushing her friend outside and slamming the door. Dean to his credit hadn't so much as moved a muscle.

"Who was that?" Bethanie asked again menacingly.

"A friend." Jess spat.

Bethanie's eyebrows went up and she stepped back. "Only a guy friend you are eyeing hungrily over a romantic dinner while you BOYFRIEND is out of town!" she yelled.

"Shut-up!" Jess retorted just as loudly. "He is nothing, _nothing, _more than a friend and I am not cheating on Sam!"

Bethanie's eyes narrowed as she flung the scrap of paper at Jess. "You think we don't know about the mysterious tiara you got? Or the phone calls you make in secluded areas."

"Get out of here." Jess spat. "You know NOTHING!"

Bethanie left in a flurry of anger and annoyance.

When Jess returned to the dining room, Dean was gone.

"Dean?" She called searching the entire apartment before finding her phone.

Ring. Ring. Ri-

"Hey." He said softly. "I figured I should get out before anyone did a search of you room. I'm sorry."

"Where are you?" she asked.

"Park down the road."

"Stay there for a minute please." She said grabbing the keys and locking the door. She slipped into the dark and headed for the park.

"You know." He said through the still connected phones. "If she really thinks you're cheating on Sam with me, this is perfect proof. You sneaking out in the dark to see me."

Jess paused at that but quickly started moving again. "I know. But I won't get to see you again after this, will I…"

His lack of response was answer enough.

She found him perched on a picnic table. Their eyes met squarely. "I'm sorry if I am ruining anything." He said softly.

"I will never have counted it a loss." She replied. "I am more glad to know you."

"You don't love me, right?" he asked pointedly. "Their suspicions have no grounds, do they?"

Jess looked away. "I do love you Dean. You've been the best friend I have ever known."

"But you don't love me more than Sammy." His voice didn't waver. Jess blinked back tears.

"I love you both. You are so different – like night and day, like the rain and sunshine." She answered.

"If you had to pick, would you pick Sam?" he asked even more pointedly.

"I don't want to pick." She answered tears welling into her eyes. "I can't live without either of you."

"Jess, I am forcing you to pick!"

"Sam." She whispered.

He relaxed into a carefree grin. "I'm glad." He replied softly. "He needs you so much." Jess wiped her eyes.

"I do love you Dean. I don't want you to leave."

"Sam will be back around eleven tonight. I can't stay."

"But you won't be coming back again."

"No." he turned away from her and stared into the darkness. "Not unless it is an emergency."

He stood up and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"But I can still call?"

He smiled at that. A slow open honest smile that she had only seen him bestow on his brother. "I hate goodbyes. So I don't do them." He turned and started to walk away. "I hate goodbyes too." She replied faintly enough he couldn't hear. "I can't bear to loose what I love." She watched him vanish into the fog leaving her alone in the park.

Slowly she turned back to the brother she chose and returned to the apartment to wait for her Sammy.

SPN

Bethanie, for all her proclaimed friendship and all the girl hangouts over the past two years, had never forgiven Jessica Moore for stealing Sam's heart first. Finally her retribution was swift and sure.

Class wasn't even over for the day when Sam stormed into the apartment and met Jess's eyes with a flashing deadly glare. "Tell me you didn't!" he hissed.

The color in Jess's face bled out leaving her pale and shaking. "What?" she breathed back.

"HAVE SOMEONE OVER WHILE I WAS GONE!" he roared. Violently he flung his book bag on the floor.

"I had a friend over." She replied a little stronger.

"Bethanie told me everything. She said you were practically drooling. You got a princess tiara from a white knight who fed you to the crows. You spend long hours on the phone talking to 'your cousin' when we both know you don't have one! You're cheating on me." He yelled before dropping into his chair and covering his face.

"Sam…"

"Don't you DARE lie to me!"

"I love you. Yes I spend long hours talking to a friend."

"Who, what's his name?" Sam asked pinning her with a hard glare.

"Sam…"

"His NAME!"

Jess closed her eyes remembering all the times Dean had told her that he could never reconcile with Sam if he hoped to keep him safe. She remembered every word, every promise that she would never tell Sam.

"I can't." she replied. "I promised. And I won't lie to you."

"Get out." He whispered.

"What?" she squeaked.

"GET OUT!" he roared standing up and towering over her looking for one more terrifying than either his father or his brother had ever been. Jess scurried to her feet tripping over the table and stack of books in her escape from him.

"Get out of my apartment until I know what to do with you." He moaned letting his head fall into his hands. He didn't move a muscle until she closed the door behind her with one last. "I love you more than anything Sammy."

"Dean." She choked gasping into the phone as she stumbled towards Lola's dorm. "He threw me out. Bethanie – she – she told him I-I was cheating on him with you." She sobbed for a minute. "Please – please call me."

He called back a minute later. "Don't do this, Jessie. If he is watching you, if anyone is listening. Please, don't call me, Sweetheart. I got your back, you're not alone. But you have to trust I am watching out for you and you can't call me."

"Okay." She sobbed in reply and listened to him cut the connection. She felt so completely alone it physically hurt.

Lola took her in in a heartbeat, Bethanie was not a favorite.

For over a week Jess passed the youngest Winchester going to and from class around the campus, and for over a week he didn't even look at her.

She had lost them both in one night and her heart was shattering.

SPN

"I – I don't know what to do Dean. I'm confused and – and – I need help. Call?"

The phone rang less than a minute later.

"Hey, I don't know what to do." Sam whimpered brokenly into the phone.

"Sammy." Dean's voice filtered back across the line.

"I love her so much, it hurts." He replied with a sob.

"Do you love her enough to believe her, to trust her?" Dean asked back soothingly.

"But Bethanie said-"

"Sam. You're supposed to be the smart one in this family. Do you trust the jealous girl who is telling you these stories more than you trust Jess?"

"But she had someone over for dinner when I was gone." He replied defending his broken heart/

"What did Jess say about this dinner guest." Dean asked.

"That he was just a friend but she couldn't tell me his name 'cause she promised not to."

"Sounds to me like she is telling the truth. She had a rotten childhood, right? Her Dad was a violent man, that _is_ what her records say."

"You LOOKED HER UP?" Sam yelped.

"Chill out. Yeah I checked to make sure you didn't move in with a freaking demon. Anyway. You have a million and one secrets you haven't and can't share with her from your childhood, and she can't even keep one secret from you without getting kicked out?" Dean sounded almost angry.

Sam ducked his head and rubbed his forehead. "I'm such an idiot."

"YEAH! Now go find that girl and apologize." Dean retorted in his I'm-the-big-brother-I-know-best voice.

Sam grinned and suddenly burst out laughing. "Thanks Dean!" and he snapped the phone shut. At a run he tore across campus to Lola's door. "Where is Jess?" he blurted out the moment the door swung open. Lola split into a grin. "Nice to see you recovered your senses Einstein. She is out by the lake."

Sam yelled something like a thank you as he ran down the steps and headed for the lake.

Halfway across campus he ran into Bethanie. "Hey, Sam." She chirped jumping to his side. "So I heard what happened. Everyone is shocked, you know I saw her on the phone as she was fleeing your apartment."

Sam looked her in the eyes coldly and she stepped back. "You remind me of a snake." He said evenly. "You would stab your friend in the back? You lose. Move." And he left her gaping in his wake.

Jess was tossing bread crumbs to the birds and trying not to cry when he spun her around into his arms.

"I love you! I am so sorry! I am so so sorry! I trust you, I do, and I've been a jerk! Please baby, come home!"

Jess couldn't even think of a thing to say before he swept her into a kiss and started to carry her back across the park.

Jess regained her feet but did not lean away from his arms. "Why?" she whispered into his chest.

"We are all entitled to our secrets." He replied. "And I believe what you said. I just needed to sort things through and have a little sense pounded into my scull." He replied easily.

"You got pounded?" She gasped.

"Metaphorically speaking." He answered cautiously. He eyed her sideways. She eyed him back and they both started laughing again.

"By who, may I ask?" she giggled.

"Nope." He replied. "Let's just say I listen to him."

Jess grinned, she could only guess, but Dean _did _say he had her back. That thought almost made her sad again. She wasn't likely to see him again soon. But she let the sorrow go and reveled in the security she once again had. With their arms twined across their backs they made it back to the apartment and shut the door on the world.

Dean chuckled and lowered the binoculars before starting Baby and pulling out of the highly secluded parking spot he had found. "That's right, little siblings. Kiss it and make it better." he chuckled. He left Cali-forn-I-A in his rear view and headed to Texas to meet up with John for a quick little werewolf hunt.

All was right in the world again.

* * *

uuuuh oooh, that was close. Wheew... and how will Dean react to almost upsetting his little brother's apple pie life?...

More coming. review please, Lovies.

Liana


	20. Say Something

AN: Hey lovies, we are getting so close to the end. EEEK I can't believe it. Two more chapters after this one (or three of four or five depending on my epilogue...haha) ok I think three because I started writing the epilogue today. but I have plans to write an alternate ending to the one that is coming. I can't shut my brain down on this story, it just keeps coming up with more stuff.

Please review, since the long break in this story due to school and moving and stuff all of my readers seem to have evaporated. I value your input and love feedback - remember the end isn't set in stone until I post it, you can still influence the direction I'm going if you try hard enough.

IdreamofIvan: It was so much fun to write jealous Sam... he is way too close to ignore the signs forever.

Thanks, enjoy

Kiliana

* * *

As she had expected, Dean did not call her again, not for a while. Her relationship with Sam repaired, she hungered for her absent adopted brother. At first she called, constantly. Once is a while she would wake up to find a message recorded in her phone. "I'm alive. I miss you both. Take care of Sammy." And that was it.

The days turned into weeks as she slowly stopped calling. Weeks turned to months, Christmas rolled around with a gift tucked under her pillow are an envelope left for Sam with a message she never got to read. Dean gave her a simple bracelet… a chain of silver with ten small beads spaced evenly along it. "Merry Christmas. Sweetheart." He wrote on the box. Jess cried and called to leave a thank you message. He didn't call back.

Months turned into a year, before she realized they hadn't spoken since that last time he had been in Stanford.

She called him in April. "Hey, Dean. Just called because I miss you. A lot! I found Sam's old ratty t-shirt he uses as a woobie and got kinda heartsick for you. So... I've been having issues with my girlfriends and I got no one to yack at, Sam's so busy with finals he doesn't even listen right now. I know he is just busy and when break comes around he'll be normal again – or as normal as Sam can be – but still I just needed someone to talk to, someone who would listen. Remember that bit-i-i-i-i…uum….that girl – sweet thing, absolute doll – yeah, the one who walked in on us? She's been spreading rumors about me among the girls. It's not anything too bad. People talk though, my friends all know it is a lie, but it doesn't mean they don't laugh. Just it hurts, you know. So anyway. I was kinda hoping you might break this ridiculously long cold shoulder slash silent game and talk to me again. Love you. Bye."

Her phone rang that evening and she dove for it nearly hyperventilating with hope. But it wasn't Mac Roni, the caller was unknown, some random Minnesota number.

"Hello?" she asked unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

"Hey Sweetheart." He drawled quietly.

"Dean!" she shouted and then dissolved into tears. "You c-called!"

"Hey, hey, I wouldna if I'da known you were gonna give me water works." He replied uneasily. It took her a few minutes through the litany of "come on – hey – ssshhs – Jessie's" delivered in his pleading tone.

"Why haven't you answered the phone?" she finally asked trying not to sound too accusatory.

"At first, I wanted you to let me go, and to turn to Sam. Then, I got busy…like really busy…"

"Busy." She spat, "Too busy to take a minute and call?"

There was a long, weary pause before he replied in a voice that almost broke her heart again. "You stopping calling, Jessie. I couldn't pick up the phone, not if you didn't call."

They let the silence fall again. "If I called would you have called back before now?"

"Maybe, maybe not." He sounded so tired she suddenly realized.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine."

"You've always been a liar, Dean."

"You don't believe me?"

"Never."

"I think I called so you could spew about girl problems, and Sam problems – which falls under the same category." He retorted steering the conversation back somewhere safe-ish.

"Be nice!" she laughed. "Yeah, you ready? Here I go...

And there she went.

SPN

He didn't return her calls for the rest of the month. Sometimes she wondered if his job really _did _keep him that busy, that he wasn't always ignoring her call.

She called Bobby in May.

"Helloo?" He greeted gruffly.

"Hey Bobby, it's Jess."

"Ahh, Sam's high-heeled stubborn double crossing girl-friend."

…and well she really couldn't think of a good response to that so she stuck with and simple… "Oh kaaay."

Bobby chuckled. "Most of that was a compliment." He added.

"How is Dean?"

"Right to the heart of the issue. I can respect that. I like a girl who knows wha-"

"Bobby!" she cut him off. He was stalling on purpose.

"Yeah?"

"Dean?"

"Fine."

"Really?"

"Always."

"Bobby…"

"It's Dean?"

"That's the problem."

"Well you certainly got that right!"'

"How is he really?"

"Busy. Tired. Stressed. Worried. Angry. Lonely. Pick one." The old hunter sounded like all those things himself actually, she thought.

"Why do you say all that?"

"He has been in and out of the hospital all spring, not that he told you when you called last month." Bobby grunted.

"Wait. Hospital? And how do you know he called me?" she could decide if she was angry Dean hadn't told her or worried that there was something to tell.

"Because I had his phone, idjit. I told him what you said. I only listened to it cause I knew he would ring my neck if I didn't and Sam was hurt."

"That's fine. Was he in the hospital when I called?"

"Prolly not, prolly checked himself out and was holed up in a motel somewhere by the time he called."

"Damnit!" she fumed.

"Stoled the words right out of my mouth." He agreed.

"Where is John?"

"Damned if I know. Dean always seems to know but they haven't been in the same zip code since you met the bloody man." Bobby sounded royally pissed. Jess could relate.

"Is Dean okay now?"

"Better. He has been struggling to fix a shoulder problem he has been having. Keeps re-injuring himself cause his job is so demanding."

"Next time you talk to him, have him call me please."

"Can do."

"Oh and Bobby. You know that whole thing about Dean having your head if you leave out the part about Sam being hurt? Sam's in the hospital right now with a broken collar bone. Pass that along would you." She snapped.

"Wow! Wait, you didna leave that on his machine?" Bobby's voice jumped a bit in surprise.

"Nope. Figured I'd let him sweat it." She replied casually.

"Sam's okay?" Bobby asked.

"He's gonna be." She replied. "Have Dean call me."

"Girl. I aint been able to raise the kid on the phone in over a month. But I will if he calls." He muttered something else as he must have pulled away from the receiver. It sounded vaguely like "Bloody idjit gotta stick me right in the middle of their damn love-spats. One kid missing in action, one in the hospital, one a pissed off girl. Balls."

She chuckled. "Take care of yourself, Bobby."

He grunted and hung up.

Her stillness only lasted a few hours before the concern over Dean's apparent absence on the radar and still unhealed shoulder became too much for her psyche. Sam was in the hospital and the nurses were having a fit over his collection of scars. They were talking seriously, even to the point of law suits against childhood abuse and explaining that he could still get resolution, and basically driving them both mad.

So Jess dug out an old scrap of paper and dialed the number into the phone.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Beep. _This is John Winchester. I am sorry I cannot be reached. If this is an emergency, leave a message and a number. I'll call back._

"Hi, John. Umm, it's me – Jess, Sam's girlfriend. You remember me I am sure…. Soooooo – um yeah, stop rambling. … …Sam's in the hospital with a broken collar bone. Dean won't answer or call back. Bobby doesn't know where he is. Bobby said he is sporting a hurt shoulder. And then there is me, a very worried, stressed, tired girlfriend who is sick of being hounded about my boyfriend's scars by hospital Psychs in hopes that he might open up to a councilor about an abusive childhood he denies. Could you spare me a minute and call, please." She hung up having gone from nervous in the beginning to spitting annoyed by the time she flicked the phone shut.

Surprise, surprise. He called back within mintues.

"Jess." He sounded mad…but then he usually did if she remembered correctly.

"John. Hey." She replied uneasily.

"How's Sam?"

"Broke his collar bone keeping one of our friends from killing himself on a spelunking trip yesterday. We went caving and Jeremy fell off the rocks from pretty high up. Sam caught him as he fell past but he got his chest nailed into a sharp outcropping. He's gonna be okay, despite the doctors field day over his impressive array of poorly healed bone fractures and scar tissue." She replied deciding to just go ahead and tell it all in case he hung up on her, cause she had a feeling it would not be that unbelievable.

"Good. How are you? And can you afford the bill?"

"I'm fine. Stressed, but fine. And yeah I think we just might be able too. I've been talking to the student insurance he got set up and they are covering two-thirds which leaves us paying about five thousand. I know we have three thousand in the emergency fund, so I'm hopeful we can pinch pennies."

John huffed what might have been a laugh. "Dean is about to shoot me, you're on speaker but I'm giving him the phone so you can hear him." Jess's jaw dropped. Dean?

"Hey." He whispered sounding decidedly hoarse.

"Dean! What the hell! How, what, Bobby said – I thought you two haven't been in the same zip code since I met your dad."

"Umm.. *Cough* … we met up." He sounded choked.

"Are you alright?" she continued in the same surprised half angry rant voice.

"We met'p a few days 'go. M'good."

"Why do I never believe you?" she retorted.

"Because you're a smart girl." John shouted from somewhere in the background.

"Sht'up." He growled. "I'll get'chou money. Ta' care o' Sam."

"What the hell happened to your voice?"

"Bronchitis." John replied apparently having taken possession of the phone again. "Good night, Jess. Go sleep." He hung up. He _hung _up on her.

She tossed the phone in annoyance itching to yell at him that she _knew _what Bronchitis sounded like. That was not Bronchitis (which her sister had in second grade) that sounded like full on strangulation.

What the hell did those Winchester men do for a day job!

Dean didn't call back.

SPN

That summer, before Sam's Junior year, they went on a trip to Alaska. Sam bought her a necklace of Eskimo "snow crystals' hand carved from ivory tusks. She kissed him on the cheek and teased him about silly gifts, but she didn't take it off even on the beach in August.

They found a baby solid black kitten tucked into a basket just inside their window Halloween morning and Sam ranted about horrible pranks and friends needing to leave them alone while Jess secretly named the kitten 'Chester' on the way to the shelter since their apartment didn't allow pets.

Sam called Dean Christmas morning and got the machine. He spent the next few hours secreted behind his computer nervously biting his thumb nail. When she asked him about it, he muttered something about 'worst day of the year for hunting' and what sounded like 'damnit Dean. Be careful.' Jess called that evening with no response, no gifts were to be found. New Year's Day found a small box tucked under her pillow and another envelope for Sam on his bedside table. He cried. Jess found a glass rose pillowed inside her white box. "Love you Jessie." Was all he wrote. Jess cried in her own corner. What a crappy way to start the New Year. But it meant at least he was alive.

He called her back when she called in January. _Hey, Deanie. It's Jessie – you know Sammy's care taker. I miss you and I love you and I'm worried about you. I should just record this since I always say it. Ha. Anyway, take care of yourself and call if you get the chance._

He sounded better when she answered the phone, not quite as tired.

"Dean! How's your shoulder?"

"Oh Bobby musta told you. It's all healed up now. Just catches every now and then. How's Sam's collar bone?"

"All healed up. Actually perfectly aligned this time, the doctors stressed that quite adamantly." She replied.

Dean was silent, when he spoke again his voice was filled with regret. "I'm glad. It's what he deserves, I wasn't ever able to provide that."

"Dean…" she began, back peddling from a hurt she hadn't meant to dredge up.

"Just don't, Jessie-J-may." He softly cut her off.

"Take care of him?"

"Take care of yourself?"

"Always do sweetheart."

She burst into tears at-after that. Sam found her huddled over her phone sobbing and he carefully pulled her into his arms. More than anything she wanted to beg him to call his brother, his broken brother. More than anything she wanted to scream to him that it wasn't fair.

Instead she pulled herself together and excused herself for a walk. She walked until she reached the beach. The sun was setting by the time she climbed up onto the rocks and looked out across the silent sea.

"IT ISN'T FAIR!" she screamed until her voice was hoarse. "WHY CAN'T THEIR LIVES BE HAPPY!"

Sam called her at dark and came to pick her up. He didn't ask, she didn't tell.

SPN

That summer after finals Sam took her to Disney Land and the Winchester Mystery House for kicks. Twice she thought she saw the elusive Dean only to be rewarded with the face of a stranger.

Summer gave way to the fall semester of their Senior Year. Not a word, not a sign had been hear from Dean which is why her heart stopped dead when she heard his voice one night. "Whoa, easy tiger." He laughed from her living room only seconds after Sam's careful exit. Like a live wire Jess sprang from her bed every horrible situation running through her head.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Okay, Alright, we gotta talk."

"Uh, the phone."

"If I'da called would you have picked up." It was a double edged question. Yes maybe he missed his brother more than anything, but Dean had changed between them something with his last letter at Christmas and Jess dreaded what he had wrote. Just as Sam went to reply she flipped on the lights. The last thing she wanted was for them to be arguing first moment back together.

"Jess. Hey. Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica." Sam introduced them awkwardly. It was awkward for all of them for very, very different reasons, but Dean hid it well. Jess was fighting the urge to race to Dean's side- to ring his neck, beat him black and blue and then hug him into a confession. Dean sized her up pretending to be hitting on her. He was acting as if he had never met her before.

"Wait, your brother Dean?" she asked because that's normal people would do if meeting the first time after midnight in the living room in pajamas.

Sam nodded and Dean shot her his killer lady's man smirk that made her knees go weak. "Oh, I love the Smurfs. You know, I gotta tell you. You are completely out of my brother's league."

For one of the first times ever she felt suddenly very uncomfortable caught in his gaze. Something was wrong – he was acting _really_ weird. "Let me put something on."

"No, no, no, I wouldn't dream of it. Seriously." He crooned still all lewd as he eyed her. Sam was less than happy. "Anyway, I gotta borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family business. But, uh, nice meeting you."

Shit! He _was_ in trouble. She felt the shiver run up her spine as he talked, but Sam didn't seem to be getting past the 'hitting on my girlfriend' part. "No." he announced firmly putting an arm around her to mark his territory to his brother. "No, whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her."

Dean's gaze hardened becoming so much like their father's that her heart skipped a beat again in fear. "Okay." He met their eyes boldly "Um. Dad hasn't been home in a few days."

Sam's face slipped into a half sneer at those words "So he's working overtime on a Miller Time shift. He'll stumble back in sooner or later." Jess almost balked at Sam harshness towards his father who she was halfway fond of and halfway feared.

"Dad's on a hunting trip. And he hasn't been home in a few days." Dean corrected firmly not breaking eye contact with his brother.

…and Jess had it figured at last.

Dean wasn't in trouble, John was. And it was serious. Sam's expression didn't change, only the sneer was gone. "Jess, excuse us. We have to go outside." He said evenly. In the Winchester world, she had come to realize, that perfectly even tone was the herald of very bad news. She watched her boys for the first time standing together, moving as one, a synchronization that pain and separation could never erase, and it did the opposite of what she had always thought it would. It froze her heart in fear.

For all her dreams of getting them back together, repairing their broken brotherhood, she could never have dreamed this. The tight set of their shoulders, the clench in their jaws and the matching expressions of nothingness.

"Oh boys." She breathed unable to move. "Oh God, help them."

SPN

When Jess finally found her feet back in her command, Sam was headed for the bedroom to pack, leaving Dean outside alone.

"Dean." Her voice broke the stillness of the night drawing him out of his revery against the closed trunk of his massive beast of a car.

"Hey, Jessie." He offered with his more authentic smirk. "I'm sorry about this."

She waved him off and stepped up to hug him. His arms curled around her back tightly and he buried his head in her hair. "I'm more happy to see you than anything." She replied softly into his leather jacket.

"You look good." He replied without breaking the hug.

She pushed back a bit and looked into his eyes. "Is _that _why you were checking me out in there, you sly dog."

"Oh come on sweetheart, cut me some slack. I gotta make sure."

"I know." She replied affectionately.

"You need to go back in. If Sam finds you with me like this, the game's up." He said softly as he kissed her forehead and pushed her away.

"I don't care." She wined petulantly and apparently Dean must have a super power to make everyone one around him behave like they are five, she figured.

"You want him to come back to you, right? And finish this big important degree?" he asked firmly, once again pinning her with his eyes and forcing an answer just like those two years ago in the park.

"Yes." She whispered unhappily.

"Then is charade must go on. Someday Jessie, someday you can tell him, but for now, please. I need him here safe with you when all is said and done. I just have to find Dad." He looked so broken she couldn't fine words to argue so instead she stepped up to his side and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

"Take care of yourself, Deanie. Please. And you got Sammy duty for now." He chuckled at her words and tugged on a strand of her hair. "Get out of here."

Slipping back into the apartment, Jess headed directly for the bedroom.

"Wait, you're taking off?" she asked carefully, the charade must stand but that didn't mean she couldn't try to glean information. He looked up at her, his face unreadable. "Is this about your dad? Is he all right?" she pried. No matter what Sam said, her meeting with John had changed the way she saw the man and she didn't wish him harm.

"Yeah. You know, just a little family drama." _You big liar, you. I thought Dean was bad, but you both are experts at it. _

"Your brother said he was on some kind of hunting trip." _Seriously let me know what is going on here. Please it's you and Dean and John. I need to know. _

"Oh, yeah, he's just deer hunting up at the cabin, he's probably got Jim, Jack, and José along with him. I'm just going to go bring him back." _Seriously, Sam. Could you be more unconvincing after that little display in the living room, that argument holds no weight. Zero, zip, zaydo._

"What about the interview?" she asked. And yes it was a legitimate concern.

"I'll make the interview. This is only for a couple days." Somewhere deep in the pit of her stomach she knew that if Sam got in that badass car with Dean, he would never really come back to her. He might come back physically and finish the degree, but his heart was so tightly bound to his brother, he would eventually return to him, it was a matter of time – it always had been. And that is how it should be she figured.

"Sam, I mean, please." _Please tell me what's wrong. Please tell me what you do that hunting is your cover. Please tell me what really left Dean dying in the hospital. Please tell me where John is. Please tell me this is just a nightmare and I'll wake to Dean cooking burgers and you reading your hunky text books. Please tell me the monster in my closet isn't about to eat your Dad. Please tell me I'm crazy, that Dean wasn't doing what you researched last Christmas…_

Sam was staring at her, waiting. "Just stop for a second. You sure you're okay?" she finally voiced ignoring the mad thoughts in her head.

He laughed a little. "I'm fine." He assured her.

_Right, charade. What would Dean do? Picture yourself with green eyes and a badass attitude. Picture yourself baking a turkey in a cardboard box. _"It's just...you won't even talk about your family. And now you're taking off in the middle of the night to spend a weekend with them? And with Monday coming up, which is kind of a huge deal."

"Hey. Everything's going to be okay. I will be back in time, I promise." He assured her with a kiss to the check.

With Sam's kiss setting fire in her cheek and Dean's burning her forehead she watched him walk away.

"At least tell me where you're going." She whispered as the massive engine roared to life carrying to two most important people out of her life to God knows where.

SPN

_Hey, so I know this isn't much, but I figured I owed you something for stealing your boyfriend without an explanation after I've mostly ignored you for a year and a half. ~ Mr. Mac Roni of crow castle on the bullfrog isles._

His writing was remarkably strong and even for as wild a guy as he was. Jess giggled as she picked up the note and the envelope beneath it. He must have left it while she and Sam where in the bedroom.

"Oh Dean." She chuckled. Inside the envelope was a picture. _Bobby snapped it, I was going to burn it, but he said I might give it to you. Kinda took me a year to get around to remembering it. Thanks for being there for me. You have no idea how much that means to me. _He had written across the back. His writing was so different from Sam's scrawl it made her pause.

Slowly she flipped the picture over. Dean was seated cross-legged on the ground with a shaggy dog and a bigass book that looked older then Noah. He wasn't looking at the camera but his head was turned towards it so it was a good profile. Blonde hair stuck up around a soft white bandage and his hand was in a cast. He looked kind of pale but the sun was glowing around him and his faintly bruised face was alive with laughter.

Jess's hand flew to her mouth and she smiled with tears leaking down her face. That boy had no idea what he did to her emotions.

She gathered herself together and slipped the picture into her pocket. She had work to do before Monday. Blithely she whiled away the time waiting as the weekend flew past.

On Saturday there was a potluck. Sam's old roommate Brady was there. They talked for most of the evening. Brady had convinced them to go on their first date. She liked him a lot.

Sunday brought church for the first time on months since the unexpected arrival of Dean had prompted all sorts of desire for the comfort of God. Brady met her there too and laughed, calling her a worrywart if she was going to church 'cause Sam was on a road trip. Jess laughed along with him and invited him for dinner. After all, Sam was on a trip so he would just miss out. Brady's lucky day right?

Jess cleaned up that afternoon, no reason to have a friend over to a messy apartment. She vacuumed the rugs, wiped down the counters, did all the dishes and swept up the salt by the doors.

Brady showed up right on time.

Just perfectly on time.

The man was impeccable, more than could be said for her own messy Sammy.

But then they couldn't be more different really – and she was kind of fond of Sam's messes.

Brady had perfect manners, he wouldn't even let her clean up alone. The perfect gentleman. …and then she screamed.

She screamed when his eyes turned black.

She screamed when he pinned her to the wall.

She screamed when he came up to face her.

But her voice was spent by the time he snagged the picture out of her pocket.

"Oh Jessie, Jessie. What a world you have never seen…" he laughed vilely and tore the picture slowly and deliberately in half. "You should never have entered their lives, they are followed by death." He scattered the shreds at her feet. "But tell me, was it Sam, or was it Dean all along."

Her eyes widened in horror, how much did he know about her.

_Sam… Dean… Someone. HELP! _

* * *

Ahhh, I'm horrible. Until next time. My creative bug has run out for the night.

Soooo... Brady. And Jess...

Let me know what you think? Did you like my manipulation of an existing scene? I tried to make it flow to be believable from the actual pilot.

~Liana


	21. I'm Giving up on You

**Sorry it's been so long... no I'm not... have you SEEN CHRIS PRATT! Agh...** damn he is cute... enough. Okay so I kinda got hung-up on Jurassic World in my free time and shirked this story... but NO MORE! Pratt can share my time. :P

I'm also covered up in school and work but that is beside the point. HAPPY 4th! I gave you a present here because I can't give the country one. (and she probably wouldn't really want to read this. SO I have to warn you, this might be sad...

Like really it might be.

~Liana

* * *

**Then**

_Brady showed up right on time. _

_Just perfectly on time. _

_The man was impeccable, more than could be said for her own messy Sammy._

_But then they couldn't be more different really – and she was kind of fond of Sam's messes._

_Brady had perfect manners, ho wouldn't even let her clean up alone. The perfect gentleman. …and then she screamed._

_She screamed when his eyes turned black._

_She screamed when he pinner her to the wall._

_She screamed when he came up to face her._

_But her voice was spent by the time he snagged the picture out of her pocket._

"_Oh Jessie, Jessie. What a world you have never seen…" he laughed vilely and tore the picture slowly in half. "You should never have entered their lives, they are followed by death." He scattered the shreds at her feet. "But tell me, was it Sam, or was it Dean all along."_

_Sam… Dean… Someone. HELP! _

**Now**

"There is no help coming for you. Your precious boys are off chasing their father who is chasing mine, ironic don't you think. Do you want to know what I am?" he took in her panic stricken face before flicking his eyes to black. "I'm a demon."

"Not possible." She gasped straining against the invisible bounds holding her to the wall.

"Oh but it so is." He chuckled and allowed the frames on the far wall to come free and smash into the wall over her head. "And my father, he is the demon who marked Sam as his when your precious Sammy was only six months old. Yes. Sam has been tainted his whole life. But he ran away the little twerp, we just had to push him back into hunting with his brother."

"Hunting? Their father is on a hunting trip." She whispered confused.

"Oh yes he is," Brady laughed as if it was the best joke ever. "he has been living one for twenty two years. Not hunting animals, no, hunting monsters. Hunting us, but he won't ever win, he can't win, he is too blinded to win."

"Can't." she gasped.

"Remember when Dean was in the hospital? That was no bear. No, lying comes more easily to that strange little family of theirs then breathing. Dean wears subterfuge like he wears clothing. He faced down a shape shifter alone because his back-up ditched him." And Brady split up into his evil laughter again. Jess's skin crawled.

"He hunts alone?" she asked in horror.

"Not anymore, he's got his precious Sammy at his side and you're just the final push." He gleefully chuckled purposely trying to rile her up with his words.

Suddenly it all clicked. The salt by the door – salt was commonly used in fairy tales to ward off evil spirits. Sam's inability to sleep through faint noises. His obsession with myths and legends. Dean's uncanny ability to move without being heard. His common injuries. John's perpetual absence and gruff attitude. Sam's deep seated dislike of Halloween. Dean's pyromania and gun lust. It all made perfect sense. As if she had been stumbling around in the dark feeling all the edges and corners and now someone had flipped on the light and she could see the whole shape for what it was.

Then for one beautiful and blinding moment, everything was as it should be and she laughed. She laughed in mirth. Laughed in complete peace. Brady stepped back and looked at her like she was the monster but she didn't bother to explain.

Sam and Dean belonged together like salt and pepper, like two peas in a pod. Completely separate and different but not complete without the other. Dean wouldn't get hurt with Sam to watch his back, and Sam wouldn't wrap himself around his brother's shirt in agony. Brady couldn't hurt her, not now.

"You think this is funny? You think this is a joke!" he snarled. Abruptly her feet left the floor as she slipped up the wall to the ceiling. Her tears mixed with her laughter at the unbearable agony of being pinned in place.

Just over the bed, he brought her to a rest and flopped down below her stretched out resting on the pillows. She was mad that he lay there in the place where she and Sam slept, on the pillow that one dean had curled around. He had no right – but she had no voice left to tell him so.

"Let me tell you a story." Brady said conversationally looking right up into her eyes filled with silent laughter and tears. "It's about a little boy named Dean and his little black-hearted brother. See Dean had a golden life. He had a loving mother who would do anything, give anything to keep him laughing. His very busy father still made time to take him fishing and let him work on the car. His biggest worries were whether to wear the batman shirt or the Spiderman one.

Then one day, his father brought him to a hospital to see his mother and a little squirming bundle of crying baby who was destined to become his curse and his world. Ah, but his pretty little mother was killed… …pinned to the ceiling of his brother's bedroom and burned to a crisp."

Jess's eye went wide in horror when she suddenly understood the poetry of her position. She had known she was dead from the moment he had stood before her and revealed himself, but now she understood why and how.

"Oh but it gets better. Little angelic Dean, who, by the way, saw his mother pinned and screaming in the flames on the ceiling as four year old, carried his little brother out of the house and never put him down again. Daddy went a-hunting and Dean staying a-caring. He killed his first monster when he was six. Salt and burned the ghost. Could field strip a weapon blindfolded by nine. Was driving by eleven. Could build a bomb at thirteen. And those are just the things _we _know about and we missed so much! Aah and Sam, oblivious, didn't know about any of it until he was eight. He found of the truth when he was ten but he started to guess at eight.

You wonder why Dean is always so saddened when you talk to him about Sam. Did Sam ever tell you that the last night he spent at home he was in a screaming match with John that Dean couldn't break up like usual cause he was laid up with a broken leg?"

He watched her eyes, reading the emotion horror and sorrow and pain flickering in them so he continued. "Well, he ended up insulting Dean because of his over protectiveness of his family, called him a robot or something like that and left with his father screaming 'Don't ever come back.' He didn't even say goodbye or turn around. What he doesn't know is John left too. Walked out that same night and went and got himself wasted. When he came back blind drunk he laid into Dean for doing a bad job 'raising a baby he was only four years older then.' Pretty sure that is the only time he has ever seriously hurt one of his kids on purpose. Screamed maybe even hit, and left his lamed up son (hurt because he was careless) to fend for himself." He smirked. "Apparently it took John a long time to work up the courage to come back to his kid."

He rubbed his hands in glee. "Isn't it such a great story? All their family angst and shit is just so delicious! And Sam, poor misunderstood, different little Sam. He's the one with demon blood in his veins, he's gonna be our little king – lead all us to world domination."

If looks could kill, Brady would have disintegrated from the look Jess pinned him with.

"Got something to say?... … …Nope? Ah, I didn't think so." He teased. "Anything else you wanna hear? Hmmm, let's see – we're gonna kill Dean for sure. That human is far too dangerous. Rumor – hah, I hear a lot of rumors, that's how I pieced their delicious story together – rumor has it that he is fluent in Latin, Greek, and some other language but just pretends to be really dumb and hides it because he hates research. Rumor also has it that he is a mechanical genius. And guess what? You got it – _rumor – _see you're catching on _sweetheart! – _Hah, ohh the joy of misusing someone's pet name. He doesn't act around anyone else he way he acts around you. – Anyway, rumor also has it, he is shrouded with light the same way Sam is shrouded by darkness. I've felt Dean's presence and something about it is decisively not okay. That's why he is number one on the trophy list. One day we're gonna snatch him up." Brady made a chewing sound that grossed Jess out.

"Wanna try something funny." He chuckled and picked up her phone from the table. "How bout I give Mac a call, huh? I'm thinking he won't answer." He dialed the familiar numbers to Jess's horror and hit the button on speaker.

It rang once.

…

Twice

…

A third time before –

_Hey, this is Dean, leave your damn message. I'll call if I want._

"Oh Dean." The monster drawled lightly. "That's no way to talk. Didn't your mother ever teach you manners? Oh, right. No she didn't cause we pinned her to the ceiling and burned her alive. HAHA! I forgot!" Tears burned down her face. How dare he talk to Dean like that! "Hey, you wanna know something, a little secret. Jess was a daddy's girl – well until he trapped her in his bedroom – and before he beat her mother every day. Ever wonder if that coulda happened to you if John didn't have a hunting outlet for his anger… hummm. Interesting thought. It almost happened to Sammy the night he left if you hadn't stepped in to take the hit. Remember that. Always so loyal to Daddy. Let me tell you something. You're going to lose. Oh hang on, I'm forgetting my own manners. Jessie, got any last words for your dearest almost brother?"

Suddenly Jess felt her throat released as he held the phone up towards her face. This was cruel. Making her talk to Dean, rubbing his failure into his heart like salt in a wound. This would kill him! But she had to… "Dean." She whispered faintly. Her words like acid in her mouth. "Save Sammy. I love you both." And her voice cut off like a cliff.

"Awe, aint that quaint." Brady laughed hideously. "You LOSE Dean. You always lose. They all leave you in the end and they always will. Just like you couldn't save your mother when you saw her pinned burning to your brother's ceiling, neither can you save your sister. Like a bug, pinned. Burning. You lose."

He snapped the phone shut and cackled. Black eyes bored into her own. "I wanna tell you another story about our little golden boy…"

She wanted to hit him, to scream, to curse, to move, to do anything. But she remained pinned. Remained silently listening to the twisted retelling of the Winchester's lives. And she cried for their pain, not for her own.

SPN

Dean watched as Sam got out of the car. The tension between them was taunt it was likely to snap any second.

SPN

Brady flicked out of sight with the snap of a finger when the door to the apartment opened and her heard Sam walk in.

Her mouth moved in silent screams. She couldn't do this to him, it would break his heart. She didn't want to do this, because it was breaking hers. She loved him. She loved him so much. Now, as we walked in and laid down beneath her, she finally chose for good and she chose Sam. Dean was her brother, that's all he ever wanted to be to her, Sam was her world.

As the sharp hideous pain seared across her stomach. Her heart shattered into a million glass shards to blow away in the coming smoke.

_Sam._

_Sam please don't look up._

_Dean…_

But he looked. And her name on his lips was the most agonizing thing she had ever heard. The agony of the fire was nothing in the face of his pain.

But Dean was there. Suddenly, unbelievably, like the answer to her prayer, he had come to once again carry Sam out of the fire.

He looked up and the pain in his eyes, the memory and childhood horror, was so palpable for a moment she thought it would root him as it had his brother. But Dean's eyes met hers and he did what he did best. She watched, sickeningly thankful for his sociopathic ability to clam up, as his eyes shuttered away his memories and he stepped back into the role he had always played.

As he dragged his brother away from her, away from the flames, their names were on her lips as a final prayer. Dean and Sammy. They were safe, she hadn't failed Dean, hadn't failed to protect his little brother. Not in the end.

Closing her eyes she welcomed the darkness that would swallow her alive.

* * *

AAAGH I feel so evil! I have to address the other side of that phone conversation because I last minute added it and now I need to write out Dean's reaction. COMING SOON! oh and I am not sure where to go with Smoke Signals, you could bounce me ideas...

I'm so sorry! I'm kinda going to feed into the pilot and not go AU (I had this scene coming up next chapter burned into my mind from the beginning which is why I started writing this story) BUT I am thinking about doing a AU alternate, so If you have any way you want it too end, shoot it my way and I'll take it under advisement.

~Liana


	22. Carry On My Wayward Sons

Your final chapter my dears! (9580 ish words) I think it's the longest chapter I have ever posted. enjoy!

First of all, it has been the best ride. I am so grateful you have all followed this story. If you have read this story, even if you haven't ever reviewed before, please do me the honor of reviewing and letting me know what you think. I would love you forever, (in a very non-creepy not chick-flicky way because that would be gross and it would make Dean sick! and we don't want to make Dean sick...)

Thank you all so much!

~Liana

* * *

**Then**

_But he looked. And her name on his lips was the most agonizing thing she had ever heard. The agony of the fire was nothing in the face of his pain._

_But Dean was there. Suddenly, unbelievably, like the answer to her prayer, he had come to once again carry Sam out of the fire._

_He looked up and the pain in his eyes, the memory and childhood horror, was so palpable for a moment she thought it would root him as it had his brother. But Dean's eyes met hers and he did what he did best. She watched, sickeningly thankful for his sociopathic ability to clam up, as his eyes shuttered away his memories and he stepped back into the role he had always played._

_As he dragged his brother away from her, away from the flames, their names were on her lips as a final prayer. Dean and Sammy. They were safe, she hadn't failed Dean, hadn't failed to protect his little brother. Not in the end._

_Closing her eyes she welcomed the darkness that would swallow her alive._

**Now**

As Sam slid out of the car, Dean nearly lost it. Stay, _Sam stay! Please don't walk out of my life again._ But instead he replied with a snarky "Whatever seeya." And instantly regretted it.

Sam slammed the door with a grunted bye and didn't look back. Some things never changed. _Fine! Whatever! Get lost!_ And for once he almost meant it. Only, he knew he was lying to himself and it was killing him.

Dean slammed the car into drive angrily and pulled down the road. _Get away. Get far, far away before I turn around, bust down those door and beg my brother on my knees to be in my life again and to stop slamming the freaking doors all the freaking – wooow slow down Dean!_

_…but maybe his brother was actually missing him too, and freaking out on his own…and maybe he should go back…_

Dean groaned and pulled onto the highway. "Damn it!" he cursed slamming his hand into the steering wheel. He dug for his phone after a minute.

"No." he snapped, mentally slapping himself "Do not call Jessie. Don't not call Jessie. Do not call Jessie. Sam just got home and they are certainly kissing and maybe – scratch that – definitely doing more than that."

He drove another full five seconds before pulling out his phone and hitting the speed dial.

_"Hey, You've reached Jessica Moore. Sorry I missed you, you know what to do."_

"Hey, so I know I am totally risking everything calling you when Sam is undoubtedly as close to your phone as you are. But… I'm drowning." Yanking the emergency break he skidded out on the wet pavement and came to a spinning stop. "I'm dying! Did you hear that. How is my little brother. You know what, this is stupid and I don't know why your phone is off and I have NEVER EVER CALLED YOU BEFORE! Wow… this is literally the first time I have ever called you first… bye."

He snapped the phone shut and sat very still staring at the wet pavement.

Something felt wrong - like an itch just barely out of reach.

He dug out the phone again and flipped it open. There was one voice mail.

_"Oh Dean."_ A sticky-sweet very male voice drawled down the line. _"That's no way to talk. Didn't your mother ever teach you manners? Oh, right. No she didn't cause we pinned her to the ceiling and burned her alive. HAHA! I forgot!"_ the steering wheel creaked under his hand. Who the hell was this!

_"Hey, you wanna know something, a little secret. Jess was a daddy's girl" _JESS_! "well until he trapped her in his bedroom – and before he beat her mother every day. Ever wonder if that coulda happened to you if John didn't have a hunting outlet for his anger…"_ "No-nonononon!" he stuttered clutching the phone with all his might and blindly scrambling for the ignition.

_"hummm. Interesting thought. It almost happened to Sammy the night he left if you hadn't stepped in to take the hit. Remember that. Always so loyal to Daddy. Let me tell you something. You're going to lose. Oh hang on, I'm forgetting my own manners. Jessie, got any last words for your dearest almost brother?"_

"Jess…." He breathed as the world fell away. His hand forgotten clenching the key, the night beyond the window a blurry smear. _"Dean."_ She whispered faintly and her words were a knife in his heart. This was a call made from Jess's phone only hours before. _"Save Sammy. I love you both._" Pain and terror turned to a blinding rage as her voice choked away, silenced.

_"Awe, aint that quaint. You LOSE Dean. You always lose. They all leave you in the end and they always will. Just like you couldn't save your mother when you saw her pinned burning to your brother's ceiling, neither can you save your sister. Like a bug-"_ the engine roared to life. _"-pinned."_ Despite the rain the wheels left thick skid-marks as he blasted into motion. _"Burning. You lose."_ "NO!" he screamed flinging the phone at the other seat and blazing past the speed limits. Damnit! Jess was trapped and… "SAM!"

He was NOT losing them!

Sliding to a stop outside his brother's apartment he was out of the car before it had even stopped skidding in the rain. He had his gun and a flask of holy water.

From the living room he could hear Sam's panicked screams and the smoke from the fire was suffocating. "JESS!" he screamed tripping over a kitchen chair. "Sam!" With a solid slam, the door thudded open to reveal the horror. Sam was still laying beneath her pinned body even as she burned. He wasn't moving "SAM!" Dean shouted and plunged into the burning abyss. Suddenly he felt her eyes on him and looked up. The tears that until this moment had not fallen, at last slipped free as he looked up at her.

"Dean" she mouthed and even through the blistering heat and unbearable pain – she smiled at him.

"Jessie. Sweetheart!" he sobbed back. "I'm sorry!" then her eyes returned to Sam, and his followed. She was brave, even now in the midst of the fire, her metal burned true. He would not cry, she didn't need his tears, she needed him to save their Sammy. Angrily he brushed away the tears and flung himself at his brother.

"Sam, we have to go." He yanked his kid brother off the bed and one last time met her eyes in farewell before turning away forever. Her chapter was ending in flames. With all his strength he bullied his brother outside in spite of his pleas, in spite of his cries for Jess.

"Let me go." Sam screamed clawing desperately at his back trying to get through him back to Jess.

"No!" Dean yelled shaking him harshly. "I can't do that!" _Don't you understand. I can't lose you too! She begged me not too... she's gone Sammy. _"She's gone." His voice cracked. The window of the master bedroom exploded, shattering out into the yard, and Sam collapsed in a heap against his brother sobbing. "Nonononono... Jessica."

Fisting his hands in Sam's t-shirt Dean desperately hugged him back and watched the flashing lights race towards them.

She had known. He had seen it in her eyes, they were the eyes of a hunter, the eyes of someone who had seen the terrors in the dark and had accepted them. But not only accepted the terrors, in her eyes he had seen her acceptance of him - as a hunter. He had seen forgiveness for the lies he had told her. For once she had finally seen past the mask he always wore - she had seen him - with all his dark, shattered past - and in that moment, had desperately begged that he protect their Sammy.

This was his job, it always had been, it always would be, and she finally understood that. It was time for him to carry his baby brother away from the pyre of the most important woman in his life and out into an unforgiving world, again. History was unyielding, they had come full circle, and just like last time it had left him shattered.

So this is what Hell felt like? A hole ripped out where your heart should have been and a broken brother in your arms.

* * *

Sam was crying again.

He hadn't slept much, had eaten little – he was breaking down before Dean's helpless gaze while the anguish in Dean's chest was like a vice crushing him tighter and tighter as the days went by. Every word Sam moaned, every time her name passed his lips, Dean could see her blonde hair and her laughing smile as she screamed at him attacking him with a spatula. Their lively phone conversations... He missed her too! The vice crushed tighter. He was the older brother, he couldn't break - he had to stay strong for Sam, like always. But, he was suffocating, his hands shook until he clenched them, and even then they still shook when Sam wasn't looking.

The SELFISH BRAT! He could cry and Dean wasn't allowed to?

He missed her too, Damnit! (not that Sam actually knew that)

The older brother crushed the table edge in his hands trying to regain some control before approaching the younger. The few days they had spent in Palo Alto, Sam had semi-held it together. They were looking for a sign, any sign of the demon, they had a funeral to attend and condolences to receive and Sam had mostly held it together. But the past two weeks on the road had been hell and Dean was as the end of his rope.

Sam cried until he passed out, Sam picked at his food, drank the milk and ate a few crackers – Dean hadn't eaten in five days now. He hadn't slept in three. He was running on will power which was failing him at the moment. So when Sam started crying again…

"I mis-ss her D-dean." Sam sobbed as Dean tried to manhandle him off of the bed, Dean couldn't respond; he was too busy holding his shit together. "Leave me alone!" Sam screamed wrenching away. "You could have at least tried to save her too. YOU should have saved her! Or you should have let me save her.

"Sam..." He started.

"Just cause you lost mom when you were four, doesn't mean anything. you were four and not even in there." he screamed pushing Dean roughly away and into the corner of the bedside table. "You don't know what I am going through, you haven't lost anyone, so leave me the hell alone!"

That was it. The final straw. Dean just could not deal anymore.

"YOU DON'T KNOW SHIT!" he yelled back flinging Sam back onto the bed and clenching his fists ready to fight. His reaction was so unexpected it cooled Sam's anger off like a bucket of ice, but Dean wasn't finished - he was just getting started. The gate that had been sealed shut since that night three weeks ago when he bodily dragged his brother out of his Stanford home was busted wide open and he swore he needed to beat something until he couldn't feel a damn thing. "You are a selfish, ignorant, self-absorbed brat who thinks he knows everything! You Don't Know SHIT! You think you are the only one who misses her laugh, her lame jokes? You think you are the only one who keeps dialing her damn number just to remember she won't ever answer again?! Huh!? GO TO HELL!"

Dean was shaking so hard the floor was vibrating the walls and Sam was looking at him like they had never met. Maybe in some way they hadn't. Dean was certainly not the same person he had known before he had walked out. "Dean?.."

"SHUT-UP, SAM!" He bellowed emphasizing each word with the jab of a quivering finger. "I'm sick of it, I'm sick of you, I'm sick of your attitude. Damnit! I miss her too! Eat your damn dinner. I'm going out! I need a drink!" and he slammed the door so hard it cracked under the pressure rattling the frame.

Sam couldn't move. He couldn't breathe.

It took ten whole minutes for him to recover enough to make sense of what Dean had said. _You think you are the only one who misses her laugh, her lame jokes? You think you are the only one who keeps dialing her damn number just to remember she can't ever answer again? _But Dean didn't even know Jess. He thought angrily. But the realization hit him like cold water, chilling him to the bone.

Dean had been there when was had been horribly sick that once, and Jess had lied to him about it. The pillow had smelled so much like his brother he wanted to cry. His shirt had been fixed in the classic Dean way – sewn up with sutures like his bear when he was little.

Then there was that tiara and the funny messages she got. The mystery friend she was sworn to secrecy over, and Dean had talked him into forgiving her without even the slightest doubt.

Sam had received a letter from Dean every Christmas, but looking back he suddenly remembered her curled away with her own little box.

Dean.

He had been there in Sam's life, without disrupting it, because Sam _knew _Jess never knew about hunting.

Dean.

Sam reeled in the center of the room and stared helplessly at the door. With his sorrow and anger cooled by Dean's outburst, he felt empty and abandoned by that same brother. Dean was right, he was selfish - and right now, his brother needed space. So Sam pulled his shit together and dried his face.

He ate his dinner.

…and he waited.

He got a shower.

…and he waited.

He crawled onto his bed and waited watching the door like a scared six-year-old.

Four hours later, Dean had still not returned. It was two in the morning when he finally went to look for Dean. Screw letting Dean have his space. What if he was gone? What is Sam had driven him to insanity and he had finally decided it wasn't worth it. What if he had ditched Sam? No - it was Dean - he would never do that. What if he was hurt or drunk and passed out somewhere. Sam was driving himself frantic as his steps sped up.

He didn't have to go far.

Dean was slumped behind the motel away from sight. His back was too the bricks, his head was hanging, his posture defeated, and the wall above him was dripping with blood.

"Dean! Dean, what the hell have you done?" Sam burst out in soft concern running frantically to his side and gently lifting his hand to inspect the broken skin.

Hollow empty eyes didn't even twitch from their fixation on the graveled ground.

"Dean, hey, look at me, brother." Sam tried cautiously, fingering his brother's pulse point to measure the level of alcohol poisoning.

"Didn't want to think anymore. M'tired of thinking." Dean slurred softly.

Sam looked around for the rest of the evidence and sure enough, an empty bottle of Jim Beam lay in a puddle of the same a few feet away.

Dean had beat the wall until he couldn't feel. Sam rubbed furiously at his eyes but didn't tighten his grip – Dean's right hand was a broken, bloody mess, the last thing he wanted to do was make it worse. Almost poetically it started to rain lightly, weeping along with the little brother. hollow eyes flickered momentarily up and back down.

"Oh Dean," Sam whispered in anguish and with sudden, ridiculous clarity found himself painfully aware that their positions had been switched. This was a crazy, unthinking, dangerous man who had lost something precious, this is what Dean had been dealing with for weeks – only Sam was more the crying, sullen, and yelling type, and less the broken bones, blood, and booze kind of guy. "Hey Dean, your hand is a mess. Let me clean it up inside, okay?"

Just like that, Dean was alive again. He wrenched his hand away from Sam, not even grimacing when the bones audibly grinded against themselves. "I got it!" he spat scrambling unsteadily to his feet and stumbled in the general direction of the door. In spite of his protest, Sam ended up helping him off the concrete to the door and onto his bed.

When he was completely passed out, Sam carded his fingers through Dean's short hair before he carefully cleaned his hand and individually set and bound his fingers. The hand was not to be trifled with. John had hammered that into them really well and really early. If the hand did not heal properly, it could be crippled thus crippling a hunter for life. Plus, right now, focusing on this task kept his mind of other matters.

After assuring himself that only the digits were broken and the actual palm was not, he ruled out the hospital. Dean was so drunk and pissed and the damage was so obviously self-inflicted, it would be a massive legal nightmare and they really could deal with any more of anything now.

So Sam patched up his brother, like Dean kept patching him since, well, forever, and sat back to watch him with new eyes.

Dean and Jess had known each other.

They might have even been friends.

the soaked, angry, unconscious man before him and his beloved gentle little Jess.

Friends!

His fingers itched towards his own phone. He turned it back on for the first time in two weeks and set to work deleting all the missed calls. All but the five from one individual he hadn't spoken to in over a year and a half.

"Lo." Bobby greeted gruffly. "Sam, s'at you?"

"Yeah." He choked out.

"Awe, Sam." Bobby gruffly moaned in sympathy. "You boys can come here, ya know."

"B-bobby." Sam fidgeted. Maybe Bobby didn't know - maybe he did. "Dean sorta exploded on me today. I guess I whined and made his life miserable a bit too long."

"S'bout damn time. I was wondering how long his cool would hold and I…"

"I wasn't finished." He choked in interruption. "He – he said something. I mean I gotta know. H-he said. He yelled at me and, um, did Dean know Jess?" his voice cracked on that last name and he rubbed a hand over his bleary eyes.

Bobby was silent for too long and it was tearing Sam up inside.

"Wha'd'ee say?" the hunter finally broke the silence.

"He said, "You think you are the only one who keeps calling her number just to remember she gone? And he said 'you think you are the only one who misses hearing her laugh?"

The line was heavily silent again for a very long minute before Bobby heaved a really slow sigh. "Yeah. Dean knew Jess real good."

Sam started to cry. He knew her. He knew her and he missed her. "H-how long?"

"She called him when you were sick two years ago, Sam. And he went." Bobby's voice was unusually soft.

Sam gulped valiantly trying to stop crying but he kept choking up all the same. "D-did he l-like her?"

"Awe, Sam. She's the only person I think he ever opened up to outside his family. He adored her, and she loved him. Called him her big brother and everything. It was very fluffy and chick-flicky and he would never admit it."

"Why didn't th-they tell me?" he finally managed to ask feeling like he had been denied the perfect world, a world with both of them in it – though now he figured that was partially his fault.

"She wanted to really bad, but Dean wouldn't let her. He didn't want to ruin the life you had built up, and honestly I think at first he couldn't face rejection again. He didn't want to give you a chance to kick him out."

"Bobby I wouldn-"

"Sam. Four years ago you left him broken, didn't say goodbye, and never turned back." Sam was silent, what could he possibly say to that? It was the truth after all.

"After a while it just became easier to keep a secret, to keep from ruining your life, to keep you safe."

Sam snorted unhappily. "Tell me a story about them, Bobby."

Bobby coughed uncomfortably. "I suck at stories kid, that aint changed any since you were an eight years old, squirt."

"Please tell me something." Sam begged.

"She was there. At the hospital in Helena. She was there the night before you arrived."

"When Dean got mauled?" Sam gasped in shock. "She…"

"She called him and I answered hoping it was the douche he had been hunting with so I could kill him. She was one tough chick. Certainly had me impressed."

"You met her too?" the poor kid sounded so lost. So hungry to share in what everyone else had shared.

"She was certainly a fire cracker." Bobby chuckled wistfully. "She sat there all night and sang to him. She was the one who convinced me to call you the first time he seized himself into a heart attack."

Sam couldn't think of a thing to say. His heart was beating an alien tandem of thrill and pain. They had known her. They had _known _her, and it hurt as much as it brought him joy.

"She kept him from self-destructing when he was laid up here after the hospital too. Called and just chatted at him. I never heard that boy talk to openly to a girl like he could with her. Called her his little sister."

Sam couldn't hold back the tears.

"I don't know any more. Sorry kid." Bobby conceded…gruffly.

"Thanks." He whispered and hung up the phone dropping it into his lap. His eyes skittered across his brother's sleeping figure. He had known her, and he had loved her, and he had shoved his pain aside to take care of Sam these past three weeks – and Sam had abused him. Sam had been completely insensitive. Sure he had been ignorant, but he had still hurt his brother.

Honestly, he couldn't remember the last time he had seen Dean eat. He didn't know anything anymore. Dean was always awake chasing away his nightmares or putting up with his attitude. Dean was always forcing food on him. When had Dean last taken care of himself? When they were kids Dean had often made himself sick taking care of Sam. He often even starved himself – somethings never changed.

Sam stood unsteadily and walked aimlessly towards the table. He sat heavily, his finger tracing the unnatural pattern in the laminate wood grain absently for a few minutes before he noticed his brother's phone.

Curiosity won over. It also killed the cat - but he knew that...

Dialing the voicemail he held his breath and selected 'saved messages.' As long as he had remembered Dean had never saved a single message, not even one.

He almost broke down when her voice softly buzzed in his ear for the first time since her death. _Hey, s'Jess again. Obviously. I think you have caller ID and screen your calls. I bet I'm right. I bet your just waiting until I finish the message, then you're going to listen to it and decide if you should call me back. Brat. But hey, Sam's at class and I figured I might fill you in on how he is doing if you wanted to chat. Yeah, okay you probably saw right through that. I'm lonely. There I said it. Happy now? And no I am not going to call my friends because most of them are in class too. So I'm just sitting here, working on homework – um calling you actually – and thought it was time for a break. So, don't ignore me_. He hiccupped a laugh in spite of his pain. Jess was sharp as a tack and Dean was really obvious sometimes. She was so right. Sam would bet money that Dean had called her right back.

He let the messages play on their own and sat back to listen and watch his drunken brother's chest rise and fall.

_Dean, it's Jess. Obviously. I hate to do this. I shouldn't've called. So… here's the deal. See, Sam's about to drop classes so he can get a part time job. The part time I picked up just isn't cutting it for my tuition right now. And well, I really don't want him to drop any classes, he'll lose his ride, and I can't drop anymore and maintain my scholarship, which would make the tuition higher – counterproductive. So… I was wondering if you know anyone who could help us out so I can pay for my next year of tuition. He is too prideful to ask for help, so am I usually. I can't ask my mom, she is single and still caring for my little sisters, the others are in school or married and barely surviving. And I can't call my dad, I mean, hell, I am going to be a social worker for a reason. I just – I don't know what to do! Call please. _All the pain Sam had felt at being unable to financially support them rushed back in at the sound of her tears. She had called his brother – their brother – to beg for help because Sam couldn't support them, and now Sam knew that the 'mayor guy' was really his dedicated big brother dragging his ass out of the fire again. So Sam cried because Dean would always save him even if he walked away – he felt like an ass - like the most ungrateful ass that ever lived.

He didn't deserve his brother.

_Hey I KNOW you are looking at the phone right now. Seriously. I CAN'T believe you hung up on me. I guess this will have to do. Dean, I don't know how to say thank you. I can't believe that you paid my entire loan, but thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Call me back and next time, pick up the damn phone! _This emotional rollercoaster was going to take its toll. He went from crying to laughing at her indignant yelling and could easily fill in the gaps, Dean had hung up on her while she was being all chick-flickie. And now he was laughing and crying and, shit he was a mess. But Jess… Jess and Dean.

_Hellooo. S'me duh. As if you don't already know that. Anyway, Happy Halloween. Your brother is being a jerk about it and doesn't want to dress up. But I may have forced him too. So I figured I would just call you and say hi. Take care. Call me back if you can. _Her voice was just so perky and lively and painfully Jess. Sam stood shakily from the table and collapsed on his own bed phone pressed to his ear and eyes still on Dean's prone profile.

Completely unprepared for what came next, it hit him like a load of bricks, this message hurt almost more than the others. All he heard was harsh breathing. His own breathing for a moment before the line cut out. He had called, hadn't said a word, but Dean had still saved the message. As the voice went on to chirp about the date it was saved. Sam hated himself for what he did to Dean, and loved Dean for forgiving him all the same. He wasn't going to survive this trip down memory lane – of that he was sure. Dean slept on, his chest rising and falling slowly - almost frighteningly so. "Damnit I'm sorry." he murmured to the still room.

_Hey Dean, It's Jess. I hope you get this. I don't know what to do! Sam has never been this sick before, and his fever won't come down. It's sitting fat and happy at one hundred-three point five and I don't know what to do. I just- I mean- I was thinking he would get better, but it's been three days and he became irrational this morning when his fever spiked. Help please Dean… I don't know if he is going to be ok, or if I should take him to the hospital. Call me please. I don't know what to do. _Her shuttering breaths were tearing Sam apart. She had called Dean. He had been right. Dean had come that night and she had lied to Sam for him.

_Hey Dean. It's Jess. You left. I mean obviously, you know that, but still. I think I understand why, I wish you could have seen Sam's face though. He was so sure he hadn't dreamed you. He was SO sure, and I just couldn't break his heart. I told him that I had crashed in the living room and the next day, he was in bed and his shirt was mended – which was really sweet of you by the way. He looked so hopeful at the thought that maybe you had come. Please Dean. Let him back into your life for both your sakes. But until then, mums the word. Thank you so, so much. Take care of yourself, I'll take care of Sam while you're gone._ Sam sobbed again. He was such a girl at the moment but he didn't care. It hurt, it hurt so much that she had kept begging. He knew she had been begging him, but he had thought she was asking just because he had a brother, not because she knew Dean. But hearing this, knowing she had been standing in the middle-ground begging and praying for them to be healed – and she had died to make it happen… If he had only picked up the damn phone and called his brother.

_Hey, its Jess. PLEASE PLEASE call me! I'm freaking out and I had a melt-down on your unsuspecting brother this morning. Dean, please call. Oh dean... Now it's me sitting around all nostalgic cuddling with that terrible faded T-shirt while your brother is at class. But ya I know, no chick-flick. I get it. You could let me know if your alive... bye Dean_." Sam laughed suddenly at the image of little Jessica swallowed by Dean's large ratty t-shirt sitting in the living room talking like a nutcase to an answering machine.

_Hey, it's Jess. You _could_ call me and let me know you're alright. I would hate to find out you killed yourself cooking a turkey which I discovered is a legitimate possibility tonight. Seriously, what kind of idiot cooks in a cardboard box? I was thoroughly amused and you will be surprised to hear that Sam willingly shared the memory with me, of his own accord, I didn't even have to threaten. I know, I think I even saw a cow flying past the window… He misses you. So do I... …But really? You almost burned down a motel with a turkey. That's impressive! Anyway, if you don't call, Happy Thanksgiving Dear. Sam and I love you – don't roll your eyes because it is true, he does – and I hope you call one of these days. _Sam couldn't help but smile. He remembered that day, he remembered sitting on the couch wrapped around her and telling her about the ridiculous antics of his brother. She had been _so _interested. Now it made so much sense. Dean hated to talk about himself to anyone. And she probably had been dying to learn more about him since the beginning.

_B-B-Booby. G-get t-to the h-hos-pital n-now." She drew in a deep breath. It didn't sound like it helped much. "H-he's in a b-bad way. _Sam was crying again. Sobbing, this time for Dean. Those images he had buried rushed right back into his mind and he was left seeing his brother half dead in a sea of machines and more wires then he could count. Ghastly as a sunken sea wreck and just as cold.

Sam dropped the phone leaving the strange lady yapping about dates and times as he sprang over to press a hand to Dean's sticky forehead. He was alive and breathing and sweaty and hot, and Sam could breath again. He swept up the phone, brushed away his panic, and settled back down on his bed, his eyes never left his brother's form though.

_Hey Dean. I didn't think you would answer. I guess I hoped you might…_ _Sam just got back. He – um – isn't saying much of anything. He keeps telling me he shouldn't have left you_. _I am SO glad to know you are awake. Just seeing you so still and dead looking has been giving me nightmares for days. So. Please give me a call when you feel up to it. I – um I miss talking to you. I just want to make sure you are okay. I'll talk to you soon. _It just about broke Sam all over again to hear the desperation in her voice. It was so obvious that she loved Dean. She was all but crying. Sam remembered that day, the day he had returned. She was basically grilling him for information, but he had stayed stubbornly silent only saying he was wrong to have left. Now he wished he had told her everything, it was his job to chase away her fears and he had failed.

_Oh hey Dean. Um. Wow I completely forgot what I was going to say. I got distracted by your answering machine. You know given how much I was calling it I should be used to it, but, hey, at least Bobby picks up. Speaking of which. If I get a call from him and find out you're in a hospital or dead, I'm going to kick your ass. If you're dead, I'm going to wake you up first and then kick it. Okay? So…don't be dead. But yeah. I'm studying – yeah I laughed too when I said that the first time – I have written at least four complete papers in two weeks and I have one more to write, its driving me crazy – hence the call to you. The best remedy for crazy is to call more crazy and have a chat. So, give me a call and save me from the pits of my despair! AAGH kind hero speed quickly to this fair damsel's aid; I fear my resilience is fast draining away. Not much longer canst I hold on. The night is full of terrors and at the rising of the sun the crows gather for the feast… I am SO bored. Call me... before I fill your inbox with this very long – long – long – boring – message of despair. _Aaaand Sam was right back to laughing again. That was so Jess. She had far too much imagination. He remembered that paper. It was amazing. Dean must've called her because her paper was so well put together in such a short amount of time it reminded Sam of all the times Dean had helped him out. He wondered if Dean had…

_Why you ridiculous lout, Sir Winchester! A crown? All this even after your servant left me for the crows? I feel affronted! - _The crown! - Sam shook his head in disbelief at his sleeping brother. Dean actually went out and brought a cheap crown and mailed it to Jessie because of some inside joke. They had known each other well enough to have _inside _jokes. The full magnitude of their friendship was just barely beginning to sink in. No wonder Dean had punched the wall to the point of braking his hand. The mere fact that he had broken several fingers meant that he had continued to beat the wall even after he had broken the first two. With a pained grimace Sam considered that fact before he suddenly felt jealous – that Jess had known his brother as well as she did... that Dean had become so close to her... that despite that he never called Sam…

The next voicemail stopped Sam's heart in shock at her sobbing voice. _Dean. He threw me out! Bethanie – she – she told him I-I was cheating on him with you. Please – please call me. _It was Dean. IT WAS DEAN in his apartment the night Bethanie had caught her "cheating" on him. Dean was at his apartment because he was not and Jess was. How many times had he come in Sam's absence? Sam choked on a sob again. He threw his girlfriend out of his home because of his brother. It explained her painful sadness from that day on every time he talked about his brother.

_I – I don't know what to do Dean. I'm confused and – and – I need help. Call? _Sam's tears didn't slow at the sound of his own voice. If anything they grew. Undoubtedly Dean was kicking himself for having screwed up their lives. No wonder he never answered the phone again after that. No wonder he wrote that terrible letter at Christmas to piss Sam off enough to keep him away again. If he left them completely alone, they were happier without him… WHAT A LIE!

Taking the phone with him, Sam slipped over to Dean's bed and perched on it beside him. "Our lives were always better with you in them." He whispered as he brushed Dean's sweaty hair back from his forehead. "We both needed you so much, why couldn't we have had the perfect life?"

_Hey, Dean. Just called because I miss you. A lot! I found Sam's old ratty t-shirt he uses as a woobie and got kinda heartsick for you. So I've been having issues with my girlfriends and got no one to yack at, Sam's so busy with finals he doesn't even listen anymore. I know he is just busy and when break comes around he'll be normal again – or as normal as Sam can be – but still I just needed someone to talk to, someone who would listen. Remember that bi-i-i-i-i…uum….that girl – sweet thing, absolute doll – yeah, the one who walked in on us? She's been spreading rumors about me among the girls. It's not anything too bad. People talk though, my friends all know it is a lie, but it doesn't mean they don't laugh. Just it hurts, you know. So anyway. I was kinda hoping you might break this ridiculously long cold shoulder slash silent game and talk to me again. Love you. Bye. _Sam couldn't even remember that Day. He couldn't remember her ever complaining about being mocked. He couldn't remember ever telling her he was too busy to talk. She never came to him with her problems, she called Dean – but could he blame her? He did the same…

_Hey, I named your cat you left us Chester. Heehee for Win-chester, see… Sam thinks one of the students left it as a mad practical joke, but I know who the mad person who left it really was. Thanks. Take care and happy Halloween Dean. _Sam remembered that cat – Chester apparently. that cat had reeked havoc on everything. So that was Dean who played that evil prank. He curled over beside his brother and stretched out without touching the sleeper. Just being closer, though, was comforting.

_Hey Dean. _Sam started at his own voice._ It's me. Just – Merry Christmas. Please be safe, I know you must be hunting 'cause you don't know the meaning of holiday… anyway, not to argue. Stay safe. _Sam blinked. Dean must have saved every message Sam had ever left. He doubted he had saved everyone Jess had ever left, but so far he had saved each one of Sam's… maybe because he didn't think he would ever see his brother again… "Dean." He whispered. "I'm sorry." Sorry for leaving. Sorry for not calling. Sorry for everything.

_Hey, Deanie. It's Jessie – you know Sammy's care taker. I miss you and I love you and I'm worried about you. I should just record this since I always say it. Ha. Anyway, take care of yourself and call if you get the chance. _Deanie? Jessie? Sammy? She had picked up all the nicknames, for once the word Sammy didn't sound wrong in her voice. That was Dean's name for him, Dean's alone. In a way though, they were connected now, Deanie and Jessie.

_Hi, It's Jessie J-May. So it's Sunday around noon and I know you both are going to be back sometime tonight. Would you please stay so we can get to know each other with Sam knowing about it – you know, so we don't have to lie to him anymore? Please stay, I miss you terribly. I called Sam earlier so I know you are both alright, but I just wanted to call you too. Love you and I miss you. _Sam flipped the phone shut. That had to be the last message. That was the call made the day she died.

He set Dean's phone back on the nightstand and rolled over to watch his brother in silence. "I miss her, Dean. I miss her so much!" but even as he said it, he realized the burning, tearing pain was dissipated. In a twisted and beautiful sorta way, he guessed that listening to her relive two years with his brother had been therapeutic. Carefully he picked up Dean's wrapped hand to check the bandage. It was a perfect field dressing - apparently he hadn't forgotten everything his father had ever taught him. He still remembered the first time he had to bandage his brother up. No ten-year-old should have to pull the skin back around his fourteen-year-old brother's arms and wrap them in an old T-shirt in the dead of winter. Not to mention that the blood was freezing on both of them while he worked while Dean tried not to scream in pain. John was finishing off the spirit, and made it a point to teach Sam how to field dress a wound three days later while Dean burned his way through an infection. No there was no forgetting that night.

In a move that echoed that in the hospital over a year and a half before, Sam tucked Dean's arm between his own and his chest. With Dean's pulse point under his fingers he felt himself finally relaxing for the first time in three weeks.

He startled awake – when the hell had he fallen asleep – when a cold hand pushed at his shoulder.

"Princess, we got two beds for a reason." Dean grumbled still sounding sleepy.

"You should have told me you knew her." Sam replied opening his eyes to fix the green ones with a steady stare. No use in pretending. Not after the past years of lies.

Dean shifted uneasily and looked away. "You were happy with her, I couldn't ruin your happiness." He mumbled to the far side of the bed.

"I missed you so much it made me physically sick at times, Dean!" Sam almost yelled. "I wanted you in my life! I didn't want hunting… I wanted you! And I wanted her and I could have had that, for two years."

Dean rolled miserably over and sat woozily up. "Do we have to do this right now? I have a headache." He grumbled. Wordlessly Sam held out the water and pain meds he had left on the lamp side table the night before.

"Careful with you hand too, you broke three fingers." He instructed when Dean held out the wrong hand to accept the glass.

Dean looked curiously down at the bandage and before Sam's eyes the blood drained out of his face as awareness set in bringing the pain into sharp clarity. "Oh damn!" he breathed. "How bad?"

"Busted the skin off your knuckles and fingers, gouged your palm pretty good and completely cracked the middle three fingers all the way through." He replied helping Dean with his one good hand and the pain killers. "And I listened to them all."

Dean's green eyes flickered back up to his confused. "All whats, my fingers?"

Sam didn't reply in words but just rolled his eyes and nodded over at the phone, letting Dean read the action. Contrary to how he thought Dean would react, his brother did not explode.

"Oh." He whispered. "The messages." ... "I miss her too, Sam."

"I understand that now." Sam replied carefully setting the water aside. his movements were precise and slow, taking his time before turning back to his brother.

"You seem better…" Dean sounded unsure. Sam wasn't crying, he was actually talking about Jess without yelling or cussing… something had happened.

"I guess it helped to listen to her voice, to listen to your relationship with her. It helped somehow and I'm not angry right now."

"I'm glad?" though posed as a question, Sam could tell Dean probably meant it – once he got past the awkwardness of the situation and get his head on straight.

"Knowing that you knew her," He continued, "And she knew you, and that you cared for me and watched out for me even after I betrayed you the way I did. I guess I thought maybe you would have hated me and her for that."

"There is nothing I wouldn't do for you Sam!" Dean's eyes snapped right along with his voice. "Nothing. Even if you hate me I will still always be your older brother. Don't ever forget that!"

Sam's eye welled with tears at Dean righteous anger. "I think I understand that. Thanks for loving her like that too."

Dean shrugged awkwardly and looked away. They sat in silence for a while longer, neither one really sure how to respond.

"I'm gonna puke." Dean suddenly announced and rather unglamorously stumbled to the bathroom and back.

Then they sat in silence some more.

"I feel like shit." He dead-panned. Sam chuckled sharply and began to laugh… but even as he laughed tears started to trickle down his face again. This time, however, instead of turning his back on his brother, he slid forward and wrapped his arms around Dean's waist burying his face in the sweaty black t-shirt. For a moment he was afraid Dean was going to shake him off with a snarky comment about chick-flicks – because it was Dean and that is what Dean does. But instead two strong arms wrapped around his shoulders as Dean shifted to accommodate him better. The simple act of hugging him back was what finally broke Sam one last time. He started to shake with sobs. "I miss her so much, Dean." He sobbed into Dean's shirt.

"Shhh, kiddo." Dean replied.

"I – I miss h-her so – so m-much. And – and I missed you – and –and she knew y-you and l-loved you. And I wanted you t-too and she didn't share y-you! (hello petulant five-year-old) And I miss you both. And – and – and I – I miss her…" his voice faltered broken by his sobs but Dean's arms only got tighter.

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you. I thought it was for the best." He said gruffly. Sam vaguely wondered if Dean was crying too, but he didn't want to move, his head was comfortably buried.

Nothing more needed to be said and when Sam finally cried himself out, he relaxed into his brother's arms and didn't move.

The only times they had been together in the past four years, one of them was hurt. There was a sad sort of poetry to the fact that now in a way they both were.

"Hey Sammy?" Dean said from somewhere above him.

"It's Sam." He mumbled into Dean's stomach out of habit. Dean laughed softly and pushed him back to a sitting position.

"I got something for you." Dean said. He rolled off the bed and snagged his bag, plopping it on the table and digging into it. When he pulled out a book, Sam almost laughed.

"You have a book, Dean? You actually own a book…" he snarked.

"I _do _know how to read, genius." He retorted without heat. But instead of bringing the book, he flipped it open and pulled out a picture. Somberly he handed it to Sam.

"What's th-" He turned it over and forgot how to speak. It was a picture of Jess, she was leaning back against Dean's chest and grinning like a little school girl at the camera. Dean was smirking and giving her bunny ears with one hand while hugging her with the other. Sam just stared. "When was this?" he choked. Dean didn't answer, just handed him another picture. This one was Jess cuddled up against Sam. His big arms were wrapped around her shoulders and he was kissing her cheek instead of looking at the camera. She was laughing and beautiful and so full of life.

Sam's lower lip began to tremble.

"Sam." Dean said softly. He touched the picture of Sam and Jess, "This is how I want you to remember her. Alive and laughing." _Not dead and burning on the ceiling _was left unspoken. Sam nodded wordlessly and flipped the picture of Dean and Jess back to the front. "You-" he started huskily and cleared his throat. "You remember her like this too, okay?"

Dean pointed at his phone. "I already do. You said you wished you had known, wished you had been there. That was the night Bethanie saw me in your apartment." He replied. "Jess mailed me both of them and Bobby insisted I actually keep them."

Sam suddenly smiled. "Thanks. You look happier in this picture then you've looked in a long time. Even before I left you weren't so goofy or happy anymore." Dean shrugged and sat back watching Sam's face transform into a light smile as he studied the pictures. "And Jess looks happy too. I'm glad she liked you. I sometimes thought she would hate you if she ever met you cause she was in psychology and you have to admit you're a serious head case." The words weren't sharp and were accompanied with a smile so Dean merely laughed. "That I am, bitch."

"Jerk." The response was immediate.

"Did she love you more than as a brother?" Sam asked at last. Even as he formed the words and they hung in the air like wet smoke, he began to think she must have. Her emotions towards him. The coveted crown she kept in her treasure box. The mysterious glass roses she loved to look at. The way she couldn't answer his question when he asked.

Dean's eyes dropped to his lap. "I don't know. I swear, Sam. I would never have done that to you."

"I know," Sam replied quickly. "I know that, but, did she, Dean?"

Dean picked at the white bandage nervously. Blood was beginning to seep through but he didn't notice, or he didn't care – which was more likely. "Why, Sam. What difference does it make?"

"It just does. Dean…" he wheedled, "Please?"

"Maybe, once she might have. She never stopped loving you, and when I forced he to choose one of us, she choose you."

The silence was heavy between them. Dean didn't dare look up. Sam had just lost his girlfriend, the woman he wanted to make his wife, and Dean had just told him she might have love his brother… idiot what the hell was his thinking.

"I'm glad. She would be crazy not to love you too." Sam replied softly. Dean shrugged soundlessly. That was not the answer he was expecting.

Sam rolled off Dean's bed and plopped down on his own. "Come on, Dean. I'm not mad at either of you. If anything I'm even more jealous you left me out."

Dean didn't answer. Sum huffed in frustration when he decided Dean was probably got to start his usual 'we-use-the-silent-game-to-handle-uncomfortable-situations' game.

"Believe me Dean." he said at last. "I wish I had been there with you two as well. I'm not angry."

"You know," Dean said softly at last. He still hadn't looked up but at least he was talking about it still instead up clamming up like he usually did. He plucked absently at the bandage again. "You know she put me in her phone as Mac Roni so you wouldn't know who it was, because the first thing I ever told her was to feed you that boxed mac'n'cheese stuff."

Sam grinned. He pictured Jess laughing in her fake evil laugh and mischievously typing such a ridiculous name into her phone trying to suppress her mirth the entire time before splitting up into her light laughter. Suddenly he laughed. Long and hard for the first time since her death. Dean looked up at him worriedly like he was afraid Sam had finally come unscrewed. Maybe he had. "Mac Roni." Sam laughed so hard his eyes started leaking, again. But this time, they were happy tears. Dean chuckled slightly before the laughter became contagious and he followed suit. They laughed until they collapsed unable to breathe.

Dean looked at Sam, Sam looked at Dean. They had both loved her in their own way, and they had lost her, but they would survive this together like they always did.

"Thanks Dean." Sam said at last. "Thank you for loving her too, I always wanted you to be friends."

Dean smiled, his cocky smirk was back. "I always got your back, little brother. Always."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I want food. And coffee…"

"mmmm… pie." Dead replied dreamily, absently licking his lips.

Sam snorted. "Dean! You can't have pie for breakfast." He exclaimed exasperatedly.

"The hell I can. Watch me." Dean retorted.

Sam watched.

Dean ate his pie – Sam ate waffles and coffee.

they both ate a full meal too, for the first time in days.

"Time to hit the road little brother." Dean was stretched lazily against the side of the car looking strangely like a cat.

Sam opened the passenger door and met his eyes firmly – though he looked more like a puppy than a cat.

"We got work to do."

FIN

* * *

WOW! It has been a long ride! Stay tuned, this might be the last chapter, but I still might write an epilogue not to mention possible alternate ending.

Yes, I did not want Sam to hear the last message. So yeah I purposely had him close the phone before it played. Tada. And I hope Dean and his little deal after he listens to Dean's phone isn't too cheesy.

Aaagh oh this has been so much fun to write. I love Jess, Sam and Dean. I really have enjoyed exploring her back story. When I watched the pilot I kinda didn't like her much at all, but I started imagining where she had come from and when that episode came along way later where Crowley and Dean have the Demon!Brady tied up... Well I sorta fell in love with this idea. So thanks for following my mad imagination.

Please please please review. thanks. I love you, peace out!

~Liana


	23. Another Author's note

Hey there. Yeah, I've been missing for a few months. I have an announcement. Another full and complete Author's note will be accompanying what this announcement is announcing.

I'm writing an Alternate Ending for this story. but I'm not giving you details. I have about 3 chapters finished. I think I will be adding strait onto this story, but If you want me to continue it for a while, I may start its own story. In any case, keep your eyes open. I'll be posting soon.

(oh and I actually found another chapter for this story that I never finished that sorta wraps up my original story line... has John in it... I'll post that too if ya'll want it. may take me a day to finish it though.)

BUT, what I will say, is that I'm apparently crazy for even trying to write this AE… so… don't hold that against me.

Lots of love,

Liana.


	24. Full Circle

**AN: T**his is unbetaed. So any mistakes are my own. I tried to catch them all, but I was typing really fast. **This is a continuation/completion of the story – tying up a loose thread I realized I hadn't addressed. **

I don't hate John in this story. (sometimes I do, the show never really set's in stone his character in regards to the boys, it shows the boys in regards to him really well though). So I guess you can say I took some liberties with him (as usual).

**There are no tags to the episode, although I have to say, spoiler to season 1. Most of us I'm sure have watched it, so I'm not worried.**

The AE will be posted soon, I'm still writing and seeing how far I want to take it. Stay tuned.

**I don't own the Supernatural characters **(I'd sure love to) **but I do own my laptop and my imagination. **

Feel free to **review **my friends.

Thanks, lovies,

~Liana

* * *

John stood silently in the center of the room watching his boys sleep. At some point they had grown up right before his eyes and he was too busy hunting monsters to see it. The last remnants of youth still softened their features, but even those would be gone before long and John wondered if he would be there to notice. He shook his head – ever since that trip back to Lawrence, Kansas he had followed them on, his thoughts had headed down a road he did not like. A road to lead to regret, and given the way he had raised his sons, his was a lot of regret.

Sam sprawled face down on the far bed from the door and Dean sleeping lightly fully prepared to spring to life any second should danger present itself. He was on guard – too close to danger to sleep completely – in spite of his father's presence. John wasn't sure he wanted to analyze that too closely either.

John shook his head sadly and turned to look at his youngest again. It wasn't right when your eldest child was still protecting his little brother even in his sleep. But here again was the story of their life. Sam sheltered from the world in Dean's shadow. And what a shadow it was – Sam may have passed his brother up in height in the middle of high school, but Dean's shadow of protection had never dwindled.

In their sleep, Dean's head was poised, listening to the door, and listening for Sam – Sam's head was turned towards Dean – relaxed by his presence.

John shook his head sadly and quietly moved to sit in one of the chairs where he could still see them both. The older of the two twitched in his sleep, hand darting slightly up towards his hidden knife. He had started sleeping on a knife when he was eight and had never stopped. John hadn't known whether to be proud or terrified at the time, and he still wasn't sure what to think even now.

When Dean settled, John begrudgingly allowed his thoughts to wander again. He was fairly certain he was in what normal people called a midlife crisis – which was stupid because he was John Winchester…

Dean was clearly on guard and had been in full big-brother mode since he had first met up with him. Sam was rebelling against everything _except _Dean, while playing the little brother seeking comfort role as well. What was it that Dean was guarding against?

John racked his brain trying to remember what he had heard about their latest antics that could have his Dean up in arms even at rest. The visit home could have done it… no.

The lake ghost who was killing family members? He was a boy about the same age Sam had been when he learned the truth about ghosts. No…

The bloody Mary incident? Or perhaps the woman in white…

…Jess.

John scrubbed a hand across his face, pushing away the killer headache that had just started up.

Of course it was Jess. Dean was protecting his brother from having to face it alone, and Sam was silently seeking comfort.

Jess with her vivacious, lively attitude.

Jess who had dared to stand up and face John.

Jess who had loved Sam with all her heart.

Jess who had brought the rare, coveted smile to Dean's face any time they talked.

Jess who had yelled at both Bobby and himself.

Jess with her opinions.

Jess with her wit.

Jess with her pretty blonde hair.

Jess who was so like his Mary it broke his heart in two.

Jess who had shattered both of his children's hearts at the same time.

Jess was Mary.

Sam had sought out his mother even with no memories of his own of her. Dean had opened up to the young woman because somehow she made him feel safe.

Jess was Mary.

John's eyes locked onto his youngest's face.

He was too young to have had his heart broken so harshly. He was only twenty-two – the age John had been when he had said "I do" to the woman of his dreams. John blinked away the moisture prickling at his eyes. "I'm sorry Sam, I wouldn't wish my pain on you for all the world." He whispered.

Dean shifted again at the faint noise. His breathing frozen as he subconsciously listened to determine the threat level. John's eyes flashed to his eldest face until his breathing once again settled in sleep.

Sam was not the only one with a broken heart. Dean had been more closed up then ever since John had started watching then hunt together. He called, he asked for help, he searched for his father and cared for his brother – but he didn't smile with his eyes. John hadn't seen him falter. He was made of steel, always had been, always would be, still the only thing holding their battered family together.

He slipped out of the chair and crept to kneel at his son's bedside. The green eyes were closed, but his brow was creased and tense.

He was too strong – brittle – never breaking, never stumbling as crack after crack snaked across his carefully constructed walls. Suddenly John couldn't remember a time when Dean had cried. After Mary had died he had cried for four days straight until John had taken him by the shoulders looking him square in the eyes and had told him to stop – crying wasn't going to change a thing, Mother was gone, Sammy needed him. Dean had snuffled to a stop, had dried his eyes, and hadn't cried again.

A tear slipped free of John's eye as he thought of it. "I had no right." He breathed. "I had no right to do that to you."

Dean hadn't cried when Sam had almost been eaten on his watch. He hadn't cried when John had literally run him into the ground in training. Not a tear was shed over the hours of grueling work, or the lack of contact with other children. He had a gun at six. He had a father on a war path and a clueless brother whose life was his responsibility. He had no friends, he had no mother, he had no tears.

He hadn't cried until Sam had left without saying goodbye. Not until Sam walked out without looking back. Then he had cried, silently as he hurt.

Eventually, John had left him too. Had he cried then? Probably not.

John turned to look at Sam and settled his hand on the soft brown mop. He slept too deeply to react like Dean would have reacted to the simple touch.

Sam always wanted normal. Sam craved friends, craved a mother – he pushed and pulled and was never satisfied. Sam cried, he cried freely into Dean's shoulder often when they were growing up, but only when he thought their father couldn't see. He cried over the dead kitten. He cried about leaving school after school. He cried about Dad being gone. John had seen it from the shadows when he returned early or left late. When Dean became John's hunting partner at twelve, the no chick-flicks rule was born. There were ghosts to hunt.

"I'm sorry to you too. For giving you this, a broken home and a brother as a father. A brother just as broken as you are. Just as broken as the rest of us, he is just better at hiding it." He whispered into the brown hair.

Turning back to the older brother he started at the dull shadowy eyes glinting at him. In the dark they looked abnormally black.

"You should sleep, Dad." Dean whispered forcefully rolling over and standing up slowly. "I'll take watch. We have a hunt tomorrow and you need to be rested as well."

"I'm fine." John replied shortly.

"No." Dean answered, that strange new belligerence of his coloring his words. "You might be fine, but fine isn't rested. Fine makes mistakes."

Their eyes met in a silent struggle both well aware that Sam was sleep and not witness to Dean's challenge to his father's authority.

"I don't like your attitude." John replied putting as much drill sergeant into his voice as he could while whispering.

Dean shrugged slightly. "Sorry." His voice held no apology.

"Go back to sleep, son, or go run it off. I couldn't sleep right now if I tried."

Dean's eyes narrowed as he moved towards the door. He had been sleeping fully dressed so apparently he was going to go for the run. He slipped on his shoes and turned back. "Don't wake Sam." He said suddenly bringing John's eyes back around to his. Then he was gone in the chilly night air.

Almost instantly Sam started to stir. Moments later he sat up, quickly picking up on Dean's very empty bed.

"Where is Dean." His voice was sharp though sleepy.

"He went for a run." John replied.

Sam's eyes flashed angrily, suddenly fully awake, and pinned John with their heat. John felt his blood boil in response and stiffened.

"Did you send him out there? Is he armed?" His son asked sharply accusing.

John bit down in his anger, reining in his desire to hit something. "No and yes. He couldn't sleep, and he has his gun. And he expressly told me not to wake you, so if I was you I would go back to sleep before he is back."

Hardly satisfied with the answer, Sam slumped back against the bed and crossed his arms stubbornly. He was asleep before Dean was back, though, which was remarkable.

John was painfully envious of his reaction to Dean's disappearance. Sometimes life wasn't fair.

The next day they went hunting.

Vampires were on the menu, blood was the key.

Because of his skill with burglary and evasion as well as his ability to charm either sexes, John sent Dean for the dead man's blood, leaving him alone with Sam once again. He would have gone and gotten the blood himself had he realized the silence was going to be this suffocating.

As he watched his youngest son pace he wondered what he should say, if anything. Dean seemed to have a good handle on Sam's emotional state. Should he say a thing about Jess? Should he not?

"It shouldn't take him this long, I should go help." Sam finally exploded nervously without stopping his pacing.

"Dean's got it." John retorted. Sam shot him an annoyed look and suddenly John couldn't leave it there. For the first time in years his heart started jumping. How to talk to his son? Had it really come to this?

"Sammy." He finally said in his raspy growl.

The tall lad stopped momentarily and turned to look at him, his face was caught somewhere between curiosity and guarded animosity. "Yeah."

"I don't think I ever told you this, but, the day you were born, you know what I did?"

"No." Sam's curiosity was turning into confusion.

"I put a hundred buck into a bank account, I did the same thing for your brother. It was a college fund." That had Sam's attention! "And every month I'd put in another hundred dollars, until…" the trailed off as painfully memories rushed him. Sam grimaced as well. "Anyway, my point is – this was never the life I intended for you."

"Why are you telling me this." Sam asked clearly uneasy with John's revelation. The distant father who never showed the slightest hint of tenderness – at least not while he thought anyone was awake. In his life, Sam had seen through his gruff façade and watched his father break down fewer times then he had fingers on one hand. Why he suddenly seemed to be trying to be a father was unclear to Sam and it made him uneasy.

"Look. I'm sorry. I haven't been a very good father to you boys."

Sam blinked. "Damn straight you haven't." He snapped back.

Anger sparked quickly in John's eyes, putting them back in familiar territory for a moment. John was fighting the urge to argue and Sam's curiosity was getting the better of him… although he didn't take his hand away from the holy water in his pocket, just in case.

"What's wrong dad?" he asked when John didn't immediately start talking again.

"You, Dean, life I guess."

Sam snorted and plopped into a chair across the table from his father. "Well, it's not like that's ever not been the case." He retorted.

John rolled his eyes. "You don't make this easy, you and your sass."

Sam's eye brows shot up. "Wait, you mean you're actually trying to have a chick-flick moment?"

In spite of the fact that Sam was still not making it easy with his sarcasm, John chuckled at his retort and twirled the empty beer bottle from the night before between his fingers.

"I don't tell you boys often enough, but you know, your mother would be proud of you."

Sam was so stunned for a moment he was speechless. "No. You don't" he finally offered. "But I think Dean needs to hear that more than I do." It was an admission that surprised John. Four years ago, no way in hell would Sam have responded like that, and it spoke of a level of understanding about the inner workings of their family that John hadn't realized Sam had.

"Yeah, you're right." The pause that followed was more than slightly uncomfortable. Finally John broke his silence and met Sam's eyes squarely. "When I first met Jess, I almost called her Mary instead because she reminded me so much of your mother."

Sam gulped, he was over being surprised by his family's intimate knowledge of his dead girl-friend, although that didn't stop it from hurting like hell of course. John kept going, tentatively watching Sam's face so he wouldn't go too far for once in his life.

"She called me names and ranted for a full minute before I got an word in the first time I talked to her." He grinned fondly at the memory. "Full attack mode because I hadn't come right away when Dean got mauled. I honestly didn't know, Sam." He apologized unnecessarily. "Actually, she told me he was dead." It was almost unnoticeable the way pain flickered momentarily across his face, but Sam had been watching to closely to miss it.

"I took her to lunch after you got there and she slipped away. Cornered her actually and you'd have thought I practically kidnapped her from the way she reacted."

Sam snorted. Of course his father kidnapped and terrorized his girl-friend the first time he met her. "She was certainly a funny little fire cracker though." John paused again not quite able to bare Sam's riveted stare. "What I'm trying to say is… I…"

"You liked her." Sam finished for him.

"Yeah. I did. She was so much like your mother and you loved her, and Dean adored her." He faltered. "He just lit up the one time she called and I happened to be with him. And you, you followed her around like a puppy dog."

"Da_a_ad!" Sam moaned. John's grin was relieved. They had talked about her, Sam hadn't fallen apart, and they weren't arguing. Was this what it was like to be friends with your son?

"I'm sorry, Sam." He grunted.

"Me too." Sam agreed. His eyes flickered to his hands where they rested in his lap. "I was jealous at first, angry that anyone else felt like they had to right to hurt as much as I did, but Dean took it hard and I took it out on him. I wasn't fair to him."

John's eyes prickled. Angrily he shoved that feeling back down. He wasn't _really _trying to start a chick-flick moment, just a let's-get-on-the-same-page-flick moment.

"Jess and Dean shared a birthday." That comment was out of the blue and John's eyes shot back up to Sam's face.

"They did?" His son was clearly remembering something – the swirl of emotions on his face included hurt and happiness. After a moment a smirk spread across his face. "Hey dad, what happened to the money in the college fund account?"

"Spent it on ammo." John admitted with a cheeky grin. It wasn't as if Sam had been expecting anything else really. They fell back into silence again. Suddenly Sam shook his head and lurched to his feet. "He should be here by now. I should go help."

Just then the door burst open and Dean sauntered through like the king of England. "That was so easy a baby could have pulled it off." He laughed setting the brown paper sack down in front of John. "A pint of dead-man's platelets." His impression of count Dracula's voice was spot on and the angsty mood in the room evaporated instantly much to the other two hunter's profound relief.

What in the world would they do without Dean?

* * *

So, what do you think? I hoped you liked it.

R&amp;R it's the food we writers live on.

Thanks again.


	25. Two Worlds - One Family (AU)

**Hi! **hides behind computer and peeks over. **I know I've been absent, but I have two very good reasons. 1. I moved to Alaska and now I live on the edge of civilization in a frozen waste-land with cave men for company. 2. I work way too much…. But two chapters in one month, must mean I'm back again.**

**Aren't you happy I came back and wrote some more?**

**SO! I really wanted to write an alternate ending so here it goes. No promise how far I am going to take this, I would like to explore a bit of the show, but I know this is going to go WAY AU.**

**By the way, as most of my works are, since I don't have a beta reader, this is unbetaed. All mistakes are my own, I will continue to reread it and hopefully catch the mistakes, but I have a few chapters written and am tired of waiting. **

**Enjoy my AE. This is going to be posted in full in a secondary story. I'm posting this as an additional chapter on here, and starting it's own story. You'll find it under the name "Two World's - One Family" I may continue this AE in both places, let me know if you want it in both places.**

**Thanks, lovies!**

**Liana**

* * *

**This picks up from chapter 20. So I guess that makes this:**

**Chapter 21 AE - I'm Giving up on You. (I highly suggest reading Chapter 20 again before reading this)**

* * *

Brady ran his finger down Jess's smooth cheek and licked his lips suggestively, laughing at her vain attempt to bite his finger off.

"There is no help coming for you." He cooed. She growled and spat at him.

"Oh you think Dean is going to save you? Your precious boys are off chasing their father who is chasing mine, ironic don't you think. Do you want to know what I am?" he took in her poorly-concealed panic-stricken face before flicking his eyes to black. "I'm a demon."

"Not possible." She gasped straining against the invisible bounds holding her to the wall.

"Oh but it so is." He chuckled and allowed the frames on the far wall to come free and smash into the wall over her head showering her with glass. "And my father, he is the demon who marked Sam for his own when the precious darling was only six months old. Yes. Sam has been tainted his whole life. But he ran away the little twerp, we just had to push him back into hunting with his brother."

"Hunting? Their father is on a hunting trip." She whispered confused.

"Oh yes he is," Brady laughed as if it was the best joke ever. "he has been living one for twenty-two years. Not hunting animals, no, hunting monsters. Hunting us, but he won't ever win, he can't win, he is too blinded to win."

"Can't." she gasped.

"Remember when Dean was in the hospital? That was no bear. No, lying comes more easily to that strange little family of theirs then breathing. Dean wears subterfuge like he wears clothing. He faced down a shape shifter alone because his back-up ditched him." And Brady split up into his evil laughter again. Jess's skin crawled.

"He hunts alone?" she asked in horror.

"Not anymore, he's got his precious Sammy at his side and you're just the final push." He gleefully chuckled purposely trying to rile her up with his words.

Suddenly it all clicked. The salt by the door – salt was commonly used in fairy tales to ward off evil spirits. Sam's inability to sleep through faint noises. His obsession with myths and legends. Dean's uncanny ability to move without being heard. His common perpetual injuries. John's perpetual absence and gruff attitude. Sam's deep-seated dislike of Halloween, of people dressed up as monsters. Dean's pyromania and gun lust. It all made perfect sense. As if she had been stumbling around in the dark feeling all the edges and corners and now someone had flipped on the light and she could see the whole shape for what it was. They hunted monsters – Dean hunted monsters, Sam had in the past.

Then in one beautiful and blinding moment, everything was as it should be and she laughed. She laughed in mirth. Laughed in complete peace. Brady stepped back and looked at her like she was the monster but she didn't bother to explain.

Sam and Dean belonged together like salt and pepper, like two peas in a pod. Completely separate and different but not complete without the other. Dean wouldn't get hurt with Sam to watch his back, and when sick, Sam wouldn't wrap himself around his brother's shirt in agony at his absence. Brady couldn't hurt her, not now.

"You think this is funny? You think this is a joke!" he snarled. Abruptly her feet left the floor as she slipped up the wall towards the ceiling. Her tears mixed with her laughter at the unbearable agony of being pinned in place.

Just over the bed, he brought her to a rest and flopped down below her stretched out resting on the pillows. She was mad that he lay there in the place where she and Sam slept, on the pillow that once Dean had curled around. He had no right – but she had no voice left to tell him so.

"Let me tell you a story." Brady said conversationally looking right up into her eyes filled with silent laughter and tears. "It's about a little boy named Dean and his little black-hearted brother. See Dean had a golden life. He had a loving mother who would do anything, give anything to keep him laughing. His very busy father still made time to take him fishing and let him work on the car. His biggest worries were whether to wear the Batman shirt or the Spiderman one.

Then one day, his father brought him to a hospital to see his mother and a little squirming bundle of crying baby who was destined to become his curse and his world. Ah, but his pretty little mother was killed… …pinned to the ceiling of over little Sammy's baby bed and burned to a crisp."

Jess's eye went wide in horror when she suddenly understood the poetry of her position. She had known she was dead from the moment he had stood before her and revealed himself, but now she understood why and how. This was going to kill Sam.

"Oh but it gets better. Little angelic Dean, who, by the way, saw his mother pinned and screaming in the flames on the ceiling as four-year-old, carried his little brother out of the house and never put him down again. Daddy went a-hunting and Dean staying a-guarding. He killed his first monster when he was six. Salt 'n' burned the ghost. Could field strip a weapon blindfolded by nine. Was driving by eleven. Could build a bomb at thirteen. And those are just the things we know about and we missed so much! Aah and Sam, oblivious, didn't know about any of it until he was eight.

You wonder why Dean is always so saddened when you talk to him about Sam. Did Sam ever tell you that the last night he spent at home he was in a screaming match with John that Dean couldn't break up like usual cause he was laid up with a broken leg?"

He watched her eyes, reading the emotion horror and sorrow and pain flickering in them so he continued. "Well, Little-precious-Sammy ended up insulting Dean because of his over-protectiveness of his family, called him a robot or something like that and left with his father screaming 'Don't ever come back.' He didn't even say goodbye or turn around. What he doesn't know is John left too. Walked out that same night and went and got himself wasted. When he came back blind drunk he laid into Dean for doing a bad job 'raising a baby he was only four years older than.' Pretty sure that is the only time he has ever seriously hurt one of his kids on purpose. Screamed, maybe even hit, and left his lamed up son (hurt because he was careless on a simple hunt) to fend for himself." He smirked. "Apparently it took John a long time to work up the courage to come back to his kid."

He rubbed his hands in glee. "Isn't it such a great story? All their family angst and shit is just so delicious! And Sam, poor misunderstood, different little Sam. He's gonna be our little king – lead all us to world domination."

If looks could kill, Brady would have disintegrated from the look Jess pinned him with.

"Got something to say?... … …Nope? Ah, I didn't think so." He teased. "Anything else you wanna hear? Hmmm, let's see – we're gonna kill Dean for sure. That human is far too dangerous. Rumor – hah, I hear a lot of rumors, that's how I pieced their delicious story together – rumor has it that he is fluent in Latin, Greek, and some other languages but just pretends to be really dumb and hides it because he hates research. Rumor also has it that he is a mechanical genius. And guess what? You got it – rumor – see you're catching on sweetheart! – Hah, ohh the joy of misusing someone's pet name. Big-brother-Dean doesn't act around anyone else he way he acts around you. – Anyway, rumor also has it, he is shrouded with light the same way Sam is shrouded by darkness. I've felt Dean's presence and something about it is decisively not okay. That's why he is number one on the trophy list. One day we're gonna snatch him up." Brady made a chewing sound that grossed Jess out.

"Wanna try something funny." He chuckled and picked up her phone from the table. "How bout I give Mac a call, huh? I'm thinking he won't answer." He dialed the familiar numbers to Jess's horror and hit the button on speaker.

It rang once.

…

Twice

…

A third time before –

Hey, this is Dean, leave your damn message. I'll call if I want.

"Oh Dean." The monster drawled lightly. "That's no way to talk. Didn't your mother ever teach you manners? Oh, right. No she didn't cause we pinned her to the ceiling and burned her alive. HAHA! How could I forget!" Tears burned down her face. How dare he talk to Dean like that! "Hey, you wanna know something, a little secret. Jess was a daddy's girl – well until he trapped her in his bedroom – and before he beat her mother every day. Ever wonder if that coulda happened to you if John didn't have a hunting outlet for his anger… hummm. Interesting thought. It almost happened to Sammy the night he left if you hadn't stepped in to take the hit. Remember that. Always so loyal to Daddy. Let me tell you something. You're going to lose. Oh hang on, I'm forgetting my own manners. Jessie, got any last words for your dearest almost brother?"

Suddenly Jess felt her throat released as he held the phone up towards her face. This was cruel. Making her talk to Dean, rubbing his failure into his heart like salt in a wound. It would kill him! But she had to… "Dean." She whispered faintly. Her words like acid in her mouth. "Save Sammy. I love you both." And her voice cut off like a cliff.

"Awe, aint that quaint." Brady laughed hideously jumping up to dance gleefully around the room. "You LOSE Dean. You always lose. They all leave you in the end and they always will. Just like you couldn't save your mother when you saw her pinned burning to your brother's ceiling, neither can you save your sister. Like a bug, pinned. Burning. You lose."

He snapped the phone shut and cackled. Black eyes bored into her own. "I wanna tell you another story about our little golden boy…"

She wanted to hit him, to scream, to curse, to move, to do anything. But she remained pinned. Remained silently listening to the twisted retelling of the Winchester's lives. And she cried for their pain, not for her own.

SPN

Dean watched as Sam got out of the car. The tension between them was taunt it was likely to snap any second.

SPN

Brady flicked out of sight with the snap of a finger when the door to the apartment opened and her heard Sam walk in.

Her mouth moved in silent screams. She couldn't do this to him, it would break his heart. She didn't want to do this, because it was breaking hers. She loved him. She loved him so much. Now, as we walked in and laid down beneath her, she finally chose for good and she chose Sam. Dean was her brother, that's all he ever wanted to be to her, Sam was her world.

As the sharp hideous pain seared across her stomach. Her heart shattered into a million glass shards to blow away in the curling smoke.

Sam.

Sam please don't look up.

SPN

Sam stretched out comfortably on the bed, eyes closed, breathing in the scent of Jess, when suddenly his phone rang in the kitchen. With a grunt he rolled over and clambered to his feet.

Jess would have cried for joy has she been able too through the pain. But instead her blood dripped down onto an empty bed as the ceiling grew hot behind her.

"Hey Josh." Sam's voice cut through the haze of pain from the kitchen. "Yeah, I just got home… Did Jess tell everyone I was gone? Oh, hey, is she with Cindy by any chance? Nope, Okay, just she isn't home. Hold on – no, no, its okay, it just smells like – sulfur… Josh. I'll call you back later. Try and get ahold of Jess, would-ja."

Below her almost hidden by the pillows her phone lit up. Mac was calling her.

Another drip of blood and the ceiling burst into flames.

"JESS!" Sam screamed from the kitchen. Through the flames surrounding her but not yet burning her, she could see him, rooted in place, a look of horror on his face. He still hadn't seen her. She was almost glad, but she wanted selfishly to see his eyes one last chance. She loved him. She loved him so much it hurt. Dean was the brother, the father, the protector and confidant she had never had – but Sam she loved.

But then, out of nowhere, Dean was there pushing his brother back and diving into the flames towards the bed.

Her world was growing hazy as his fingers touched her face. "Dean." She whispered a smile breaking out on her face through the pain. He gripped her arms through the flames and pulled her off the ceiling to his chest. Wrapping his arms around her he shielded her from the burning debris as her world faded to black.

SPN

Moments earlier.

As Sam entered the apartment, Dean yelled in anger. This couldn't be happening to him again. How many times did he have to lose his family? It got harder, not easier, each time.

Speaking of family, he vainly reached for his phone, hoping for a miracle that his dad may have called. There was one voice mail.

"Oh Dean." A sticky-sweet very male voice drawled down the line. "That's no way to talk. Didn't your mother ever teach you manners? Oh, right. No she didn't cause we pinned her to the ceiling and burned her alive. HAHA! How could I forget!" the steering wheel creaked under his hand. Who the hell was this!

"Hey, you wanna know something, a little secret. Jess was a daddy's girl" JESS! "well until he trapped her in his bedroom – and before he beat her mother every day. Ever wonder if that coulda happened to you if John didn't have a hunting outlet for his anger…" "No-nonononon!" he stuttered clutching the phone with all his might and blindly scrambling for the door handle.

"hummm. Interesting thought. It almost happened to Sammy the night he left if you hadn't stepped in to take the hit. Remember that. Always so loyal to Daddy. Let me tell you something. You're going to lose. Oh hang on, I'm forgetting my own manners. Jessie, got any last words for your dearest almost brother?"

"Jess…." He breathed at the world fell away. The open door and falling rain fading into a blurry smear. "Dean." She whispered faintly and her words were a knife in his heart. This was a call made from Jess's phone hardly half an hour before. "Save Sammy. I love you both." Pain and terror turned to a blinding rage as her voice choked away, silenced.

"Awe, aint that quaint. You LOSE Dean. You always lose. They all leave you in the end and they always will. Just like you couldn't save your mother when you saw her pinned burning to your brother's ceiling, neither can you save your sister. Like a bug-" he slipped in the rain as he surged out of the car "-pinned. Burning." "NO!" he screamed flinging the phone at the car and sprinting through the mud towards the apartment door.

He was NOT losing them!

He had his gun and a flask of holy water.

From the living room he could hear Sam's panicked screams and the smoke from the fire was suffocating. "JESS!" he screamed tripping over a kitchen chair. "Sam!" There he was, staring motionlessly into the burning room, and that could only mean one thing. There was another innocent blonde burning above his baby brother's bed and he'd be damned if he was going to fail again.

There she was, and for a moment he saw his mother. For a moment he was four again, hiding in the closet. Twenty-two years of pain and loss; twenty-two years of regret and hate; and he was himself again, he had been given a second chance.

He leapt past his brother, habitually shoving him away from the danger, and sprang heedless of his own safety to save the life of another. _Please _he begged silently _if you are up there, if you have ever cared, don't take her. _

Her eyes met his. Trusting, silent. Her blood felt cool against the fire where it dripped into his face and he pulled her firmly down to his chest. The stiff spell evaporated as she collapsed limply against him. Gathered in his arms, she was protected.

Almost simultaneously the ceiling cracked, raining debris on his unprotected body. Better him then her though, so he pushed back the pain and stumbled off the bad.

"Go Sam." He croaked, pushing his baby brother away from the rapidly deteriorating room without compromising his hold on Jessica. Sam stumbled blindly behind him, scrabbling to get to Jess, but his shell shocked state was no match for the hunter-bred focus of his brother. Once again Dean ran from the hell fire with his baby brother, this time he didn't leave anyone behind.

They collapsed on the lawn. Lit by the burning building they made quite an appearance. Jess cradled in Dean's arms, Sam wrapped around his brother's waist crying softly into Dean's T-shirt with his face pressed against his girl-friend's singed hair – and Dean still holding his family together.

_So this is what Heaven felt like? _Dean thought tightening his arms around the two most precious things left in his world.

_ Twenty-two long years redeemed by the broken treasures in your arms while the fire meant to kill burned futilely before you. _

SPN

* * *

The beeping was the first thing to pierce the vail of dark emptiness.

Then the smell of antiseptic that clung to the very walls of every hospital ever created. This dark nothingness clearly belonged to a hospital, that smell was deadly, ironically.

Abruptly the buzz behind the annoying beeping cleared into a very familiar voice. "So, you know you can wake up anytime. The doctor keeps saying you're about to wake up and you don't. Seriously, talk about being lazy." Sam sounded exhausted, completely stretched

It wasn't long before the darkness gave way to the sight of Sammy's haggard smiling face. "Welcome back to the land of the living." He whispered scratching idly at his stubbly face.

Looking around revealed no one else in the room. "Where's Dean." She rasped settling her hand in Sam's. Everything was rushing back. Brady with black eyes – being pinned to the ceiling – the call to Dean's phone – Sam screaming her name – and lastly Dean's bright green eyes as he pulled her away from death. His absence had her worried.

"He's fine." Sam replied picking up her hand.

"Where is he?" She replied fiercely boarding on panic. Hosptials and Dean didn't mix well.

"Having his burns cleaned by the nurse. They pull him out of here a couple times a day." Sam replied, though from the quizzical expression on his face he had some questions of his own.

Jess nodded slowly and kissed his fingers. "What happened after he pulled me off the ceiling?" She breathed settling back so she could keep one eye on Sam and one on the door.

"He carried you and dragged me outside. We collapsed. The firemen came. The house burned…"

"Sam. Seriously. How bad is everyone injured?"

"I had minor burns and some smoke inhalation. Dean's back and arms were burned pretty badly – second degree. His hands were the worst but the doctor said they should heal fine. He needed stiches on his leg 'cause he must have cut it open at some point, but he said doesn't remember. Anyway, you have it worst. Your stomach was cut pretty badly, and needed stiches to hold you together. Burns on your back and arms. Your, um, your hair got pretty badly singed." He faltered and scratched his face again. Her hand that wasn't in Sam's grasp shot to her head and brushed across an uneven bob.

"Yeah." He answered her shocked expression. "They had to cut most of it off, it smelled awful."

For a moment she simply stared at him like a fish. "My hair." She gasped at last.

He glanced away looking sheepish.

Just then the door swung open and an unusually pale Dean slipped into her room.

The smile that lit up her face was heartily returned. "Dean!" she cried joyfully holding her free hand out to him. He stepped to her side, accepting the offering with a bandaged one of his own.

"Hey Jessie J-may." He returned her exuberant greeting much more calmly.

"Thank you, Dean, for saving us both." She whispered after a moment drawing her closer.

He didn't reply with words, but a bandage bound hand brushed over the cropped blonde hair. "I kinda like it." He said, his voice harsh and cracked by the smoke.

She giggled drawing him down to kiss his cheek. "Yeah? I haven't seen it yet."

"Don't get me wrong, I liked it long, but the bob makes you look cheeky."

"Are you alright?" she asked taking in the bandages covering most of his visible arms.

He shrugged noncommittally. "I'm not the one who got cut open by Gothmog."

"Aha! I knew you read books!"

Dean looked affronted. "What gave you that impression." He retorted with disgust.

"He_llo_." She retorted. "I'm like the biggest Tolkien nerd on the planet, and Gothmog is from the Silmarillion."

"WHAT! Seriously, that one was really obscure, seriously! I didn't use Morgoth for a reason."

"Deanie reads books. Deanie reads books!" she taunted with a laugh.

"Knock it off." He growled with no real heat. But given that his voice was already a raspy mess, it didn't sound much different from any of the rest of his conversation.

"GUYS!" Sam's voice thundered through the room bringing two innocent sets of eyes to his. Suddenly they both realized they had been ignoring him. "What the hell!"

Their eyes flicked back to each other and suddenly Dean looked ready to bolt. "Don't you dare." She hissed snagging his T-shirt not knowing where else to grab without hurting him.

"What is going on, you KNOW each other?" Sam thundered again.

Jess turned a beaming smile on her highly confused boyfriend. "Yes." She replied angelically. "For about two and a half years or something now."

Sam's jaw dropped in shock.

Dean looked mildly terrified.

Jess just beamed that smile of hers.

Pulling his hand out of her's, Sam stepped back, both hands sweeping up into his shaggy hair, and began to pace. "And you've known about monsters the whole time?"

Jess's smile faltered. "No. That I just found out about while pinned to our ceiling." The bitter hint in her voice wasn't intentional.

Sam's eyes landed on Dean. "You, you just…"

"Hey, she called me from your phone, pal!" He quickly derailed whatever blame Sam was about to heap on his head about ruining his perfect life. "And before you ask, no I didn't tell you because I wasn't going to impose myself where I wasn't wanted." His voice had taken a nasty edge to match his brother's.

"You WERE wanted!" Sam thundered back panting slightly from the emotions warring within him. "You WERE wanted, Dean._ I _WANTED _YOU_ THERE!"

"Could'a fooled me." He snarled nastily in return.

Sam stepped back slightly at the outburst. "I just, I thought if I called you, you'd ask me to come back to hunting and I – I'd have gone back…" Sam sank to the floor burying his face in his hands.

"Sam." Jess started only to be cut off by a sharp. "No." from the one in question.

Dean for his part pried his shirt out of Jess's hands and paced like an animal caged.

For all her dreams of getting them talking, this was not what she had imagined.

For a while they all sat there in awkward silence while Sam tried to wrap his mind around everything that had just happened.

"Tell me." He said at last, raising his eyes to his brother.

"Jess called. I answered. History."

"Agh! You're no help." Sam surged to his feet and stomped out the door without giving anyone a chance to explain. Dean flipped his retreating back off and slumped against the wall.

"Um…" Jess turned to him. "You should go talk to him. I'm dead serious, Dean. Go!"

He shrugged exhaustedly and sank into the closest chair to her. "I'll give him a couple minutes so he doesn't throw anything at me and then go find him, I promise."

"Him throwing stuff isn't really what has me worried. This is going to be alright, right?"

"Yeah, sure. He may be mad at us for a little while for lying to him… and then move on, maybe. Or I will. I'm used to the way this game is played."

Jess's fingers clamped onto his arm in spite of his pained flinch. "Not on my watch." She replied firmly, blue eyes boring into the top of his bowed head.

SPN

Sam stormed out of the room. Not that he ever fully comprehended why he was so mad.

Dean.

Jess.

Dean and Jess.

How the hell did Dean and Jess know each other for TWO YEARS without him ever noticing?

Dean had been there when he had been horribly sick that once, and Jess had lied to him about it. That he remembered, the pillow had smelled so much like his brother he wanted to cry. His shirt had been fixed in the classic Dean way – sewn up with sutures just like his bear had been when he was little.

Then there was that silly tiara and the funny messages Jess, sometimes got. The mystery friend she was sworn to secrecy over, the one that almost wrecked their relationship back when Dean had talked him into forgiving her without even the slightest doubt. Well duh. Apparently he had known about the situation since he was probably involved in it.

Sam had received a letter from Dean every Christmas, but looking back he suddenly remembered her curled away with her own little box.

Dean.

He had been there in Sam's life, without disrupting it, because Sam _knew _Jess never knew about hunting.

Sam reeled in the empty hallway and stared helplessly at the floor. With his sorrow and anger cooled by Dean's outburst, he suddenly felt empty and abandoned by that same brother. He was selfish. But why did Jess get to have his brother for two years and not him? It wasn't fair.

Impulsively he whipped his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number long unused.

"Lo." Bobby's familiar and much missed voice greeted him gruffly.

"Hi, Bobby."

"Sam, s'at you?"

"Yeah." He sighed plopped into a random bench and drawing his knees up.

Bobby seemed a bit unsure of what to say next.

"So…" they started simultaneously. Sam chuckled and rubbed his face wearily.

"You alright, son?" Bobby finally broke the silence. "Haven't heard from you in a couple years."

Sam fidgeted. Maybe Bobby didn't know anything. And it was true that he hadn't called. He was being completely selfish. "Dean and Jess – um my girlfriend – sorta sprung a surprise on me just now, and it seems like they have known each other behind my back for a while."

"S'bout damn time. I was wondering how long it would take you to figure it out when he told me he was going to pick you up…"

Sam was stunned into silence again. "He talked to you about coming to get me…"

"Yeah. Needed back up but I couldn't help. He really didn't want to interrupt your life, but he's been on his own too long. So, what'append?" the hunter broke though Sam's silence.

Sam recounted the events of the last few minutes, abbreviating the unimportant parts.

The line was silent again, a strange cackling sound coming from the other end. Suddenly Sam realized Bobby was laughing. Obviously he must have muffled the phone, but he was _laughing _at Sam. "Yeah. Dean knows Jess real good." He finally grumbled, his previous laugher well hidden.

"How long have they known each other?" He asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"The way I understand it, she called him when you were sick, Sam, and he went to help her." Bobby's voice was unusually soft. "She's the only person I think he's ever opened up to outside his family. He adores her, and she loves him. Calls him her big brother and everything. It's very fluffy and chick-flicky and he will never admit to it – prime blackmail material."

"Why didn't they tell me?" he finally asked feeling like somehow he had been denied the perfect world, a world with both of them in it – though now he figured that was partially his fault.

"She keeps asking him to tell you, but Dean won't let her. He doesn't want to ruin your life, and honestly I think at first he couldn't face rejection again. He didn't want to give you a chance to kick him out."

"Bobby I wouldn-"

"Sam. You left him literally broken without even saying goodbye." Sam was silent, what could he possibly say to that? It was the truth after all.

"After a while it just became easier to keep a secret, to keep from ruining your life, to keep you safe."

Sam snorted unhappily.

"You know, she was there. At the hospital in Helena. She was there all the night before you arrived."

"When Dean got mauled?" Sam gasped in shock. "She…"

"She called him and I answered hoping it was the douche he had been hunting with, so I could kill the bastard. She's one tough chick."

"You've met her too?" the poor kid sounded so confused and left out.

"She's certainly a fire cracker." Bobby chuckled wistfully. "She sat there all night talking and singing to him. She actually convinced me to call you the next morning."

"Hey, Bobby." Sam interrupted, painfully returning to the reality that he had two injured people – one of whom didn't know the meaning of rest or recovery, when he caught sight of a flurry of movement outside Jess's room. "Somethings going on and I need to get back there."

"Don't be a stranger, Sam. Call sometime" Bobby replied before Sam pulled the phone away from his ear.

"I will I promise. Thanks Bobby." Hanging up he hightailed it back to the room.

"What's going on?" mimicking a small explosion, he propelled himself though the door much to Jess's delight if her laughter was anything to go on.

"Dude. Chill." Dean snorted. He was rocked back on the flimsy back legs of the chair and had his feet on the foot of Jess's bed. She didn't look like she was dying either.

"Nothing's happening, Sam." She cooed at him holding out her hand as the hospital personnel left the room. "The Doctors just were telling me that if I behave myself and obey their rules, I can be discharged soon."

Deflating, Sam dropped into the empty chair beside his brother and stared at Dean's sock-covered feet.

"Gee, Sam. Take a picture already." He chuckled.

"Enough with the lying. Enough with the hiding. You're my family and I want you in my life." He snapped still glaring at Dean's feet. "We'll make it work. You can hunt. I'll get a job. You'll keep me posted on where you are. And you'll come home between hunts to rest up. You'll…"

"Stop it, Sam." Dean's cold tone stopped him dead. "You don't have the right to dictate my life."

"Dean, we love you," Jess replied soothingly. "We just was to make sure you're alive okay."

The front two legs of Dean's chair hit the floor with a thud. "Fine. Get a job. Buy a house. Live the white-picket-fence life and have your 2.3 kids. I promise to stop by for the holidays." Standing up fast enough that the chair skittered away, Dean's face was anything but happy. "I'm gonna go find dad." With an aborted snarl he pulled his arm out of Sam's reach and headed for the door, ignoring their twin cries for him to stop.

The only thing that kept Sam from tearing after him was Jess's hand on his arm. "That never helps Sam, he's a little wild and won't put up with cages of any type. Let him go burn off his steam."

"But – But," Sam fizzled out flailing his arms around for a moment. "He's just going to leave?"

Jess gave him the_ look,_ you know, the one that says you-dumbass-man-of-little-brains.

"What?" he exclaimed defensively.

"And you know nothing about leaving without looking back, huh." She pointed out.

Sam folded in on himself at her words, crumpling into the chair. "It wasn't like that."

"Do Demons ever tell the truth, Sam?" She asked pointedly and his face paled. He could guess what had prompted that question.

"When the truth is more effective at hurting than a lie, yeah." He replied brokenly.

"Then yes, it _was_ like that!" her reply was sharp. "Regardless of the situation and the argument, you walked out on him and shut the door to your life in his face. For four years you haven't tried to remedy that, and you think he's just going to suddenly let you tell him what to do or how to do it? Sam. Think. He has four years of dealing on his own. He's a master as wearing a mask to hide his feelings, but he's not okay yet. Let him go right now, he'll be back."

"But, what if he get's hurt. He's hunting solo, it dangerous!" Sam retorted.

Jess's eyebrows pulled into a frown as if she had just remembered the monster complication to Dean's personal way of life. "We'll call him in a little. First, break me out of this awful place."

SPN

Jess was curled up resting against Sam's chest on her mother's couch that night staring at the contact list absently.

"Mac Roni?" Sam teased. She blinked away the fog of memories and smiled sheepishly up at him. Hitting call she waited.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Sam chuckled at his brother's inappropriate answering machine before it beeped.

"Hey Dean-o. It's Jessie. So I've been released from the prison of false hospitality and was wondering how you're holding up. Um, we were pretty worried when you didn't come back. Sam's with me, Say hi Sam."

"Um, hey. Sorry to go all off on you, I just really don't want you walking out on me…" she yanked the phone away.

"So, yeah. That's Sam. Call please? Love you Dean-o."

"Call bro." He called out as she snapped the phone shut.

Dean didn't call them back that night. When Sam got up the next day it was to a flashing cell phone screen.

"Hey." His brother's voice greeted him. He was surprised that Dean hadn't called Jess's phone back, but didn't have time to ponder that because Dean's voice was talking again. "Just, I know you guys are worried. I get that. But I have to find Dad and I can't pick up his trail. It's just a mess. I'll call when I've figured some things out. Tell Jess 'hey' for me."

Sam tried Dean's number only to be greeted by a machine. Frustrated he tried again. And again. And again.

The next day went by really slowly.

"He's okay Sam. I know he is." Jess tried to comfort him. "He gets into trouble, and he gets out."

"How much trouble? How often is he hurt when you call?" Sam asked spinning on her. "Last time I checked, you hung out with him in a hospital where he almost died! He's hunting alone Jess!"

"Sam. He's looking for your dad."

"Yeah, and Dad is sending him on a wild goose chase of hunts." He snapped back. "He left Dean his journal with coordinates to nowhere. He's been sending Dean on solo hunts since he was sixteen. Shit, Jess! Do you know what it's like to be twelve and watch your brother peel out on a hunt that he may or may not come back from?"

"You know I don't. But he's still alive."

"Yeah, and he's used eight of his nine lives."

"Shut-up. Don't talk like that." Her chin was shaking from the effort it took not to cray at his painfully true words. "Call him again."

There was no answer. "Come on Dean." Sam nearly shouted across the line. "Just answer the phone! It won't kill you to pick up the damn phone and let us know you're alive. It's been two days! You went to the coordinates didn't you. You went on a damn hunt, ALONE!" Sam snapped his phone shut and vaulted it at the bed, he wasn't dumb enough to smash it against the wall even if he wanted to. Dean might call back.

The next day ticked by, by sixty hours he had his computer open and notes strewn around him, stretching his mythology muscles for the first time in years as he looked for his brother's location. Thanking Dean for training his memory to such a honed level as kids, he easily recalled the coordinates their dad had left them.

Suddenly his phone shrieked from the bed, hailing an incoming call. With a dive he snatched it up. They now hadn't heard form Dean in seventy hours, two hours until the three-day mark from when he walked out of the hospital room.

"Dean!" Sam snapped at the phone.

"No." a small voice hick-upped in Sam's ear. It felt like a physical kick to the gut as he doubled over fearing the worst already.

* * *

**Dun dun duh! **

**There it is, the first part to my AE. Jessie lives. Aren't you so happy?! Yeah... Me too.**

**Anyway, there's much more to come. Unlike the previous storyline I was working with, Sam is going to be a prominant part of this story. I focused mostly on Jess's relationship to Dean, Sam wasn't a big part of that due to his not knowing about it. Not I will be writing about all three of them trying to bridge both worlds.**

**PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE Review, I have no idea how anyone will respond to this. **

**Thanks,**

**~Liana**


	26. The Thing That Should Not Be (AU)

**AN: As you will probably continue to see, I have no beta, all mistakes are my own. I should probably tag bloody pain stuff, and probably language in this chapter, just to be safe.**

**I will be posting the rest of this story in my story titled "Two Worlds - One Family" If you want to follow it there, that would rock. This seems like a great place to leave this off for "Sam's Brother", but this story line will continue over there. :) Thanks SO much for following!**

**Thanks.**

**Liana**

**SPN**

* * *

**Then:**

"Shit, Jess! Do you know what it's like to be twelve and watch your brother peel out on a hunt that he may or may not come back from?"

"You know I don't. But he's still alive."

"Yeah, and he's used eight of his nine lives."

"Shut-up. Don't talk like that. Call him again."

There was no answer. "Come on Dean." Sam nearly shouted across the line. "Just answer the phone! It won't kill you to pick up the damn phone and let us know you're alive. It's been two days! You went to the coordinates didn't you. You went on a damn hunt!" Sam snapped his phone shut and vaulted it at the bed, he wasn't dumb enough to smash it against the wall even if he wanted to. Dean might call back.

The next day ticked by, by sixty hours he had his computer open and notes strewn around him, stretching his mythology muscles for the first time in years as he looked for his brother's location. Thanking Dean for training his memory to such a honed level as kids, he easily recalled the coordinates their dad had left them.

Suddenly his phone shrieked from the bed, hailing an incoming call. With a dive he snatched it up. They now hadn't heard form Dean in seventy hours, two hours until the three day mark from when he walked out of the hospital room.

"Dean!" Sam snapped at the phone.

"No." a small voice hick-upped in Sam's ear. It felt like a physical kick to the gut as he doubled over fearing the worst already.

**Now:**

"Where is he? Who are you?" Sam's voice was rough, heralding something awful. Jess had snapped to attention and was now leaning against Sam's bowed back in an attempt to hear the muffled voice on the other end of the connection.

"I-I- Do y-you know h-him?"

"Yeah, and I'm guessing you know he hunts monsters. Where are you, are you safe? He is alive?" Sam's voice was sharper then he meant it to be, but damn it, his brother was missing!

The sigh of relief was audible as the confirmation that Sam wouldn't think he was crazy freed the unknown scared voice to talk. "Yes, no, I don't know. The thing, it took him. Him and Haley." _Haley? what?_ "We were looking for Tommy and it killed the park ranger." He stuttered to a stop, but Sam was just getting started. In a flash he stuffed his computer and notes into his backpack, snagged his jacket and shoes and headed towards the door, still balancing the phone. "Hey, hey, it's okay. Talk to me. What's your name?" He brought the tone of his voice down a bit, this sounded like a kid – albeit a very scared kid – and he didn't want his only connection to his brother's wear-a-bouts to hang up on him.

"I-I'm Ben."

"Okay, Ben. What to tell me what's been going on?" Snapping the door to his CRV shut he almost jumped when the passenger door closed behind Jess. Snatching the phone away from his mouth he firmly grabbed her hand.

"What are you doing?"

"Coming with you." She replied tossing her bag over the seat and pulling her hair into a pony-tail.

"Like Hell you're not."

"Like Hell I am." The hair band snapped around her hair competently. "Dean's missing. Possibly due to a very nasty mythological creature I, until now, have assumed to be a myth, like every other sane and rational human being, and you are going after him. This is a hunt, Sam. You yourself said no one should hunt alone. I _am_ coming." She finished firmly and buckled in.

Sam really wanted to argue, but A. he knew she wasn't going to budge, he hadn't been with her as many years as he had without learning anything. And B. he was more worried about Dean at the moment to waste any precious time. plus there was a C., which included the fact that he really didn't want to go alone, and then Dean would probably be glad to see her. So he settled for shooting her a scathing glare telling her _if-you-don't-obey-my-every-order-so-help-me-I'll-kick-you-out-of-the-car _without the words, and slammed the car into drive.

Ben was still talking, so he tuned back in, letting his mind catch him up, and put the phone on speaker. Jess might as well know what they were getting into.

"…Dean told the guy not to, but he didn't listen cause what did Dean know. He was dead when we found him later. And then Dean, who was a little behind us so we could get away, yelled and Haley turned around to go back before I did, and then I found the flare gun and his M&amp;M's but didn't find either of them. Just some scuff marks, and his jacket and phone. That's how I got your number."

"Okay. When did all this happen?" Sam asked. He had so many questions, but first he needed to know how long Dean had been missing.

"About an hour ago. I ran. Man, I don't know what to do! I'm so scared!" the kid sounded close to tears again.

"Listen, Ben, right? Get somewhere safe and wait for me, I'll be there in seventeen hours." He flung the map at Jess with their destination highlighted and pulled into the highway headed south-east. She folded the access up and left their path face up on the dash.

"Okay. What's your name?" he asked hesitantly.

"Sorry. So sorry. I'm Sam, I'm Dean's brother."

"I figured as much, you sound like my brother when he is worried. Are you going to be able to find my family?"

"When I find the creature, I'll find everyone else. I'm pretty sure this thing took them to the same place. Did Dean mention any names or lore?"

"Yeah, he did. A lot. He kept calling it a wing-ding-thingy and said it, it ate-eats humans." His voice was hardly a whisper and Sam had to get his mind away from that dangerous path.

"There's still a likelihood they're fine. Focus for me, please."

"Okay. Dean said the same thing. He is crazy, you know."

Huffing a laugh, Sam couldn't disagree. "Yeah, with a large serving of reckless on the side. But the one thing he never does is put other people in danger if he can help it."

Jess could read between the lines as Sam said as much, instantly knowing his panic was partially due to the fact that Dean was probably trying to protect two people. She was starting to understand how far he'd go to keep them safe. He'd trade his life in a heartbeat if it let Haley and the other kid get away. Dean would have been in less danger if it was just him out there missing.

"Ben, you have to remember what he called the thing, 'wing-ding-thingy' doesn't help me much."

"Wedigo or something." Ben said after a moment of careful consideration.

"Wendigo?"

"That's right."

"Okay, now tell me the whole story from the beginning, start when you first met him."

Ben told them the the story readily, happy to be helping somehow, and gave them their house address before Sam hung up to conserve battery. With strict instructions to call every two hours, they marked the trip by phone calls from Ben on Dean's phone.

Leaving California, the fastest route took them below Nevada through Arizona and up through the connected four corners of Arizona, Utah, New Mexico and Colorado. Sam had never been so happy to see a "welcome to Colorado" sign in his life. But the pit of dread in his stomach just hardened. Dean had now been missing for fifteen hours and he had two hours left to drive.

It seemed as if time was dragging its feet and they were hardly crawling despite the fact that Sam hadn't been within ten MPH of the limit the entire drive. It was a miracle that they hadn't been pulled over, but he didn't dare voice it and jinx himself.

Seventeen hours from California they screeched to a halt outside a little nondescript house and greeted the angsty teenager on the porch.

Sam wanted to run right into the fray, but Jess quietly reminded him they had driven all night (Oh yeah, hence the lack of cops) and he was going to keel over if he didn't sleep.

Sleep was the farthest thing from his mind, he was wired too tight with adrenaline, and it didn't take long for him to convince Ben to show them the way back to where Dean and Haley had been taken."

_Eighteen hours and five minutes._

Sam's feet hardly touched the ground as he sprang through the trees. After Ben lead him to Dean's fallen duffle he had firmly sent both Jess and Ben back to the car.

"You'll slow me down and neither of you know how to protect yourself."

"But Sam," Jess had started.

"No! I can't find Dean and Haley if I have to make sure you are safe too!" That had been the last thing had said before melting into the trees like a greyhound on a scent. Dean had left him an M&amp;M bread-crumb trail and a bag loaded for hunting wendigo. Jess was clearly rattled by this side of him, the focused hunter armed to the teeth with unconventional weaponry and bloodlust glittering in her eyes. She had probably never seen Dean in action or she would have realized how tame Sam's own actions were compared to just about any other active hunter. he was moving painfully slow and struggling to follow the signs.

"Come on Dean. Where are we going?" He asked the scant trail, pushing down the rock of worry in his throat and focusing on the hunt. He was so out of practice he figured Dean would laugh at him if he was here. But he wasn't. _Damn it, _he thought. _Focus._

The lair was obviously a wendigo lair. It basically had a neon sign. Lonely, dank, damn, rotten, basically-the-worst-place-on-earth-housing a man-eating-monster.

He entered as quietly as he could. "Dean" he hissed every so often. On he went. On and on into the dark. His flashlight lit up the grizley lair throwing leaping shadows every direction. Damn it he was jumpy, he needed to get focused. "Dean!" hissing again, he sloshed through what he hoped wasn't blood.

"Sam?" A female voice startled him from behind. He spun and came face to face with a young dirty girl hanging from her hands. shakily he lowered the flame thrower and reached for her bound hands.

"Haley?" he offered back as he started to cut her down.

"Yeah. Thank God. He told me you were coming right before that thing dragged him out, but he didn't sound that convincing." He whispered. "It's been forever. My brother is right over there. Have you heard from Benny?"

"I got Ben. He's safe with my girl-friend in the car. He's safe. Where did you say your brother is? And Dean?" He was trying as valiantly as he could to take care of her and get her safe, but Dean's face was front and center in his mind and his whole body itched to tear the place to shreds until he found him.

"Over there in the corner. Tommy." Her voice was getting louder so he shushed her gently and eased her down.

_Eighteen hours and forty-seven minutes._

"How are your arms?" He asked as he helped her wrapped them around herself.

"My shoulders ache, but I could stand so they weren't holding my weight. I was awake the entire time." She replied bounding after him to her bother.

Gently he cut him down and helped ease him into her arms. "Can you manage to get him out of here by yourself? I have to find Dean, and kill this thing. It would be better if you weren't in the tunnel for that.

She staggered and slipped under the weight before collapsing in tears. "I'm so sorry." She sobbed. "You need to find him. We'll wait. I can't carry him." She was shaking and sobbing now that her emotional damn from the past eighteen hours had cracked and Sam faced a hard choice. He choked back his own frustration, _That'a-boy Sammy _Dean's voice told him in his head.

"Dean wouldn't leave you." He replied quickly and swept the thin boy into his arms. "The entrance isn't far. Run."

He needed to move fast. If the Wendigo found out his prisoners were escaping, who knew what he'd do to Dean. Haley sank to the ground, curled around Tommy's still form sending Sam a blindingly grateful smile though her tears.

Not a minute wasted, he sprinted back into the rotten hole in search of his brother and snatched up his bag. A plan was percolating in his head and he needed to get it in motion if he hoped for even the slightest chance to kill the Wendigo and save his brother at the same time. Back where he had found Haley, he set off through the mine in the direction she had told him was direction the monster had dragged his brother. He didn't have to go far. The tang of fresh blood assaulted his nostrils right before he backed into the damp chest of a hanging human.

"Dean!" he choked out reaching up to gently wake his brother. Dean was completely out of it, he had a fair amount of blood slickening his chest from what appeared to be bite marks at the base of his neck just above his collar bone. "Shit, Dean. Wake up." Sam begged shaking him a little harder.

His brother's breath was wheezing in and out as he struggled to keep his airway open. Hanging from his wrists and unconscious as he was, he was unable to take the weight off his arms. The lack of oxygen from where his shoulders cut off his airway was compounding his unconsciousness which, in turn, was not helping him breathe.

Sam's head was spinning just thinking about it as he cut Dean down, wincing in pain as the still raw burns from the house fire on his back and arms cracked slightly leaching blood and fluid again. His shoulders were going to be killing him from this abuse and the burns had abraded where he had been dragged through the woods. The shredded T-shirt was a complete loss and might as well not have been there at all for all the protecting it was doing. Plus, he was cold, Sam couldn't help knowing that since his brother's faintly moving chest was pressed firmly into Sam's own. Even through one and half layers of shirt, he could tell Dean's temperature was worryingly low.

_One thing at a time _he chided himself. His conscience had used Dean's voice since he was five, but with it being Dean's life in his hands, it seemed pretty ironic to him right now. _Is this what it's like when people say, 'my mom won't be happy?' _He thought randomly before squishing that thought completely. _Not the time, at all! Never the time for that one actually. _Dean's voice reprimanded him in his mind. It's like he had any desire to compare Dean to a mother figure...

The ropes gave and suddenly he was staggering under his brother's dead weight. At least it seemed like Dean's breathing was instantly better though. His eyes flickered weakly in the light the flashlight gave from its place on the floor. Sam would give anything to see those green eyes for just a second to convince himself that his brother was still in there, but he had to move and fast.

Although he was shorter, Dean's muscle mass was no joking matter. Dean had been heavier than Sam for their entire life, even after Sam passed him up in height. He was still broader and much denser. Sam strained to pull his brother up across his shoulders and staggered forward a few steps.

"Sam?" a Dean's wheezy voice stopped him short. He was so focused on walking he hadn't realized Dean had woken. "Hey." He grunted sliding his brother off his shoulders and bracing him against the wall. As glad as he was for the respite, he really didn't want to be hefting Dean off the floor again, like never, ever again. They stood there for a minute, Dean lagging against Sam as he tried to force oxygen into his body, and Sam, pressed shoulders to hips against Dean so he wouldn't collapse.

"Ngh!" Dean moaned at last, his head falling heavily against Sam's shoulder.

"Hey, hey, Dean." Sam replied gently tipping it back against the rock wall to see his face. "You're in pretty rough shape there." He offered.

Dean moaned painfully in response. "Can't. Can't move shoulders." He bit out at last before gritting his teeth again, focusing on ignoring the pain. Slowly was surely his game face was sliding into place before Sam's eyes as his brother buried the visible agony he was in and looked up.

"Not gonna be much help." He panted at last.

"Can you walk?" Sam replied.

Dean tested his weight on his legs and Sam backed off a bit, still within inches, but no longer smashing him against the wall. "They'll hold" his brother grunted in reply.

"Will you hold?" Sam asked firmly pinning Dean with a sharp glaze.

Dean's glassy eyes met his firmly for a moment before crossing slightly as he swayed. "I'll hold long enough." he murmured.

Sam nodded despite his worries to the contrary, he trusted that Dean knew that their situation was precarious enough that lying about his physical shape could get Sam killed. After all, it's not like he was going to be worried for his own life, but Sam's was a different matter.

Pushing slowly away from the wall, Dean tried to hide the fact that every muscle in his body was screaming at him – his shoulders in particular – and his whole back and side were burning.

He didn't fool Sam though. It was a minor comfort to the younger that despite the several years spent apart, his Dean radar wasn't so broken as to miss the fine cracks in his mask where the sheer agony slipped though. That and the fact that Dean was still supporting himself against the wall with a shaky hand and walking stiffly.

Snagging the duffle he had brought in with him, Sam placed his hand carefully against Dean's lower back, mindful of the burns and headed him in the right direction. As much as it was evident the older hunter really resented the need for support, he didn't once try to push away from Sam's guiding hand, allowing the younger to focus entirely on their surroundings and not on watching his brother to gage his physical status. Through that one tactile link, he was able to tune into Dean's needs without needing to look. Sam wasn't entirely sure if he should be relieved or worried at Dean's compliance. But he knew better then to look the gift horse in the mouth for now.

Going much slower than usual, due to Dean's pronounced limp that Sam had somehow managed to overlook at first, the brother's headed for the exit.

"Sammy." Dean grunted sharply, slowing to a stop and tipping more fully against the wall to remove all reliance from Sam.

"What Dean?" Sam asked, worry shot through his gut at Dean's clear stumble.

"We got company." The words were accompanied by a firm shove that got Sam well out of the way as the Wendigo swiped at the space he had just cleared. Dean had dived in the other direction and was struggling back to his knees when Sam rounded on the Wendigo. He hadn't even heard him, a fact that ticked him off, it must had come from in front of them. Wielding the flame-thrower like super-soaker, Sam charged the monster driving him back and few steps and placed himself between his injured brother and the threat.

"Gotta keep going, Dean. I have a plan, but you can't be on your knees when I set it off." He shouted over his shoulder, keeping the fire between them and the threat.

All the answer he got was a grunt, but Dean was again on his feet and moving as quickly as he could for the exit, so Sam didn't fuss.

The entrance was in sight when the wendigo charged them again.

Hesitating Sam's eyes jumped to Dean bent at the waist and gasping, and then back to the wendigo preparing to charge the fire rather than surrender his prey. "Run." He shouted, propelling Dean a few more steps with a firm push. With a quick flick of the wrist he tossed the flame-thrower in the general direction of the Wendigo and spun towards his brother. The second the torch touched the floor the place turned into a miniature bomb. Sam didn't slow as the flames raced towards him and the explosion rolled outwards. Dean's arm was heavy across his shoulders and his body limply struggling as they stumbled out of the flames and into the dusky air.

"Sam!" Someone shrieked from the ground and for a moment he mentally prepared for another threat before his eyes met Haley's. Her own eyes were huge in the light of the explosion.

"I thought you were dead!" she gasped eyes flickering to the flames billowing out of the mine entrance. "You're – he's on fire." She stuttered flailing wildly in their direction.

Sam just about dropped Dean in his hast to find the flames she was referring too. Sure enough, little blue flames danced mockingly across his shoulders. They were easily doused, a quick search revealed no more immediate threats to his brother. Himself however, he quickly doused the flames on his own clothes too.

Settling Dean on the ground across from Haley and Tom, he exhaustedly flopped beside him, adrenaline draining away and reminding him he was going on thirty-one hours without sleep constantly hopped up on adrenaline.

"You okay?" Dean's husky voice startled him out of his thoughts.

"Me? ME! Am I okay? Nineteen hours and twelve minutes you've spent hanging from your wrists in a Wendigo lair, and you ask if I'm okay!"Sam's blood was seething and he couldn't stop himself. This was just too much for one day, he was going to need blood pressure medication after this. "I called you I don't know how many times in the last three days. I researched a case I knew no more about then coordinates from Dad's journal. Damn it, I was so worried. Then I got a _phone call _from _your phone _with a kid telling me you were taken by a Wendigo! So, I drove seventeen hours without stopping overnight to get here. Am I okay?!" he fizzled out from a yell and simply wilted to the ground beside Dean. Hip pressed to hip, neither moved, neither daring to set the other off.

"Um, Thanks for coming to get me." Dean offered the olive branch at last. Sam huffed a sob and rubbed his face.

"You may not believe it after the past four years, but I would have thrown everything I've achieved away in an instant if you had ever called needing help."

"If you'd have answered the phone." Dean replied so softly Sam almost missed it. Dean really had tried to keep the bitter edge out of his voice, but it hadn't worked. Sam's silence was less than comforting, so he mentally prepared himself for a verbal assault. What he didn't expect was Sam's arm curling gently around his burnt shoulders as he leaned in and rested his head against the least damaged part of Dean's shoulder.

"You're my big brother. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you. I think that's why I ran so hard, I'm afraid to lose you." His tone was so bitter, so self-recriminating and penitent that, although in pain, Dean didn't dare move. He would have suffered the pain this hug caused to his burnt shoulders for as long as it took to comfort his brother (not that he would admit to that). But Sam remembered the burns far too quickly and jumped away as if stung. "I'm so sorry." He gasped. "I – I forgot."

"It's okay." Dean slurred. Now that he was sitting, it was hard to hold his head up. His shoulders hurt so bad and his vision was swimming. All he wanted was to pass-out.

"Haley, you think you can walk?" Sam asked from somewhere outside the fuzzy haze surrounding Dean.

"Yeah. What's your plan?" she answered softly. If she thought anything of their little snit she didn't let on.

"I'll help you support Tom between us, and Dean can walk on the other of me, in case…" he didn't finish that thought, he wasn't sure how much more 'humiliation' at being weak Dean was going to be able to put up with before doing something stupidly rash. Haley read his meaning though, he fully intended to support Dean with the other arm, in case Dean keeled over.

Out in the light, the bites on his older brother's neck looked much worse. They were red and puffy, still leaking blood and clear fluid. It was obvious the Wendigo had taken a small snack before Sam had arrived, luckily no flesh was missing, just a shitload of blood. Why he had stopped and not ripped a chunk out of his brother's neck, Sam wasn't sure, but he was grateful.

First he helped Haley get Tommy – weak, pale from days trapped in the dark, and dirty beyond what Sam wanted to think about – to their feet, supporting Tom between Haley and a tree. Then he turned to his own stupefied brother and hauled him unceremoniously to his feet. "Can you walk?" He asked for the umpteenth time in the last thirty minutes.

Dean's grunt wasn't encouraging, but he'd take what he could get.

Leaving his brother swaying on his feet for a moment, Sam pulled Tommy's free arm over his shoulder and handed Haley the phone he had in his pocket. The duffle he left behind. It was more important to get the three humans to the car right now. Stepping forward with the siblings on one side, he firmly grasped Dean's upper arm and shook it gently. Dean's green eyes jumped to his, clearing significantly before he stumbled forward at the slow set pace.

Thanks to Dean's M&amp;M Trail, Sam didn't need navigate any trail now, just follow one. Between two – three if he was honest – unstable people, in the waning light, in a forest; navigating a trail was the last thing he wanted to do. As it was, they were moving really slowly and the light was dying fast when he finally recognized the camp ground.

"Sam." Haley's voice was hoarse. "We have cell coverage again."

"Oh sweet mercies." He muttered. "Call the contact named Jess." He instructed. He honestly didn't remember if it was his phone or Dean's but he was fairly sure they both had a contact named Jess in their phone.

"Jessie?" she asked. Dean's phone it was then.

"Yeah." he replied still moving them forward.

The conversation was short and unfortunately, he only heard one side.

"Hi, it's Haley, Sam said for you guys to head for the camp site, yeah we need help. Everyone is okay. Can I talk to Ben? Thanks. Hey Ben, are you okay? Yeah we'll be fine. Stay with Jess. Thanks kiddo."

Haley hung up and slipped the phone around Tommy into Sam's pocket. "Thanks" he said, quickly sparing time for a quick smile. She was being unbelievably calm and strong about this whole thing.

"Sam!" Jess's clear voice greeted his ears a few minutes late, and almost simultaneously both Ben and she ran into view. One look at Dean and she quickened her steps. Gasping she ran to the quartet and lifted Dean's head from where it rested on his chest until his dull eyes met hers.

"Jessie." He mumbled leaning into her touch a little bit more. Her eyes leapt horrified to Sam's tired brown ones.

"We're alive." He comforted her letting go of Dean's waist long enough to help Ben take Tommy's other side.

"What now?" Haley asked as Sam caught his swaying brother, his hand joining Jess's across Dean's abused back.

"Now we get to the cars and call 911." He replied quickly. She nodded and turned back to her brother.

Sam and Jess's eyes met over Dean's bowed head again and he gave her a strained smile. "It's nothing we can't handle, but with this bite being supernatural, I need to cleanse it myself. The hospitals won't be able to handle it and it'll just breed fever."

"Bloorozeroomtwelf." Dean murmured trying to lift his head up.

"What?" The younger two asked as one. Well, it looked like fever was certainly on the menu, Dean had clearly already slipped into delirium.

Dean simply breathed for a few seconds before trying again. "Blue m – moon mot-tel room twelf." He barely mustered enough energy to say again and proceeded to stumble even more.

Oh, so no delirium, good.

"Blue moon motel? Your room is twelve. Got it. Let's get you to the car."

Supported on one side by Sam, who was holding most of his weight, and on the other by Jess, who was doing most of the steering, they managed to get themselves and the three siblings they had saved, back to the cars. Sam fed them the bullshit story to give to the cops, leaving the bothers out of it. They understood the need for secrecy having seen the reality of the brother's lives, but they didn't have to like it.

Haley, for her part, dropped into a crouch beside where Dean was resting against the Impala's rear wheel and pressed a kiss to his dirt-streaked face. "I never got to thank you for drawing the Wendigo's attention from my Tommy. You helped me get him back, just like you promised. Thank you."

His eyes met hers a he smiled. "Jus' doin' m'job." He slurred, completely sincerely.

"Well I think it's a sucky job but I'm glad we survived it." She replied with a soft laugh. She trailed her fingers down his cheek gently with a soft "thanks" and joined her family, leaving him to his.

"Hey, Jessie." He said trying and failing to put more life in his voice. "Funny a'see you 'ere."

"Well, you have a habit of giving me heart-attacks. So this time I couldn't not do something about that."

"Ready?" Sam asked before basically picking his brother up for all the help Dean was giving. Together they managed to get the older into the passenger side of the car. "Guess what." He teased, drawing Dean's attention once again to him. He really wanted to keep Dean awake until they could get the bite cleaned but that was unlikely.

"What." Dean answered barely making any sound.

"I get to drive the car." Sam's reply was cheeky at best.

Dean rolled his eyes but dug the keys out of his dirty jeans and handed them over without a word.

"Hey, Sam. The medic's will be here in fifteen minutes, the rangers' sooner." Haley called out to them from her seated position on the ground. They were using Ben's phone and looked mostly okay at last. Haley was dirty was mostly unharmed, Tom was sleeping comfortably against her chest, and Ben was keeping vigilant guard with a stick he had found.

"We gotta split before they get here. You kids going to be okay?" He called back.

Haley's replying smile was blinding. "You betcha. The woods are just the woods now thanks to you both."

Sam nodded, proud of her strength and slid into the drive seat. "I'll drive Dean's baby. You want to follow in the CRV?" he asked Jess.

"Right behind you." She replied.

They left the duffle, dark woods, and three kids almost home, behind them.

Before they moved even fifty yards, Dean slid over in a heap and collapsed against the door. The paleness of his skin blotched by dark and drying blood, only increased Sam's haste. It was easy to fall into a false sense of security now that Dean was next to him again, but he knew better then to relax until he knew just how bad Dean was hurt and made sure he would live to hunt another day.

It was still going to be a long night.

SPN

* * *

Dean wasn't sure if he was in heaven or just a really weirdly pleasant nightmare. For one, Jess had been kneading at his stiff screaming shoulders since Sam had dumped him on the bed. And although it felt like heaven to his muscles, his burnt skin was less than happy. But both Sam and Jess seemed adamant that she needed to undo the damage hanging from his hands had done, so he didn't complain.

Sam for his part, the sadistic bastard, more certainly poured more holy water then necessary over his supernatural bites. It had burned like Hades. But now he was busy lathering Dean's bare back and arms with burn cream, so… Dean wasn't going to bite the hand.

Not that he had the energy to move – at – all!

and speaking of hands, his were pretty useless all cut up and swathed in tons of gauze. He just let the mother-hens mother him and let himself drift. It was nice to have someone worry about him for a change, even if it was really weird and made him slightly uncomfortable.

When they were finally done and Sam sank onto his own bed, Dean finally mustered up the energy to talk.

"So back there in the mine. What was up with the mini volcano."

Sam chuckled and rolled onto his side until hazel met green. "I remembered what the lore said about burning the mothers, so I spread all the lighter fluid you had and cracked open a couple shot gun shells. I also emptied the other flame-thrower into the dead foliage in there. I was really hoping it would do exactly what it did and go up in flames with the Wendigo above it."

"Hum. Clever. I had a lot of lighter fluid in that bag."

"And a surprisingly large amount of diesel fuel. You really need to see someone about your pyromania."

"Yeah right. That pyromania saved both our asses today."

"True. But really Dean."

"So, how come you're both here anyway?"

It almost broke Sam's heart the way Dean's face screwed up as if he couldn't understand what worth he had to draw them all the way to his rescue. The worst part about it was that Sam was as much to blame as anyone for putting that worthlessness in Dean's eyes.

"Because we were worried about you, Deanie." Jess said settling lightly at his side and brushing her fingers through his hair.

He humfed but leaned into the touch much to Sam amazement and amusement. He was beginning to see just what Bobby had meant when he said Dean had opened up to her.

"For a rescue mission, it wasn't half bad, even if you are out of practice." He grunted at last shooting his brother a pointed glare.

"Glad you agree." Sam hid his pleased grin as he searched for something – anything – in his bag to make it look like he wasn't staring. He was though. Four years had changed Dean in so many ways he hadn't noticed back at the apartment.

His face was thinner and harder, hinting at the sharp features he was sure to be graced with as he got older. The three days of growth was thicker than anything Sam could managed in the beard department. It made him look more like their Dad, Sam didn't particularly like that. Dean was nothing like their father even on his worst days.

The green of his brother's eyes were more striking against the tan of his face. His freckles a little harder to spot, it seemed Dean was spending more time in the sun then he ever did in their youth. They had a tendency to be nocturnal when they were younger; their Dad's hunts taking place at night had switched their internal body clocks.

Dean was also a lot leaner. He had packed on more muscle, filling out in a way that hinted at endurance training instead of the bulk training their dad had often encouraged.

Older.

Worn.

Lonelier.

The words that sprang to Sam's mind when staring at the elder were heartbreaking at best. Here in the quiet of the motel, with no shields to mask his face, with no personas to hide behind, he could see just how broken his brother seemed – the burns and bruises adding to, rather than diminishing the effect.

After retrieving the duffle the next morning, Sam plopped wearily on the bed bedside his prone brother. Dean hadn't moved since he'd fallen there and that was a testament to his exhaustion and the state of his upper body.

"Come back to Cali with me and Jess." Sam's voice was gentle and firm.

Dean didn't answer at first so Sam prodded a little more. "I'm sorry about what happened in the hospital room and I don't have the right to ask you to do anything. I'll never be able to make up for walking away and ignoring you for four years, but I can't lose you again. Please come back to Stanford with us, you can rest up until your back is better and then you can look for Dad. I'll come with you even. Please?"

Dean's silence was beginning to wear on his nerves. "Just answer me dude."

They fell into a strained silence. Finally, face scrunched up uncomfortably, Dean rolled over and looked up at Sam.

"Why?"

"Why what?" Sam was confused and scared that Dean was going to ditch them again.

"Why'd you leave the way you did?" Dean's voice was so calm, that it terrified Sam even more than his silence had.

"I was mad at Dad for trying to control me and wasn't thinking clearly. I think I was hoping you come stop me." He mumbled shamefully.

"Sam." There was that hint of anger Sam had been dreading and hoping for. "I was stuck in bed with a shattered leg. How was I supposed to come stop you?"

Sam fiddled with his T-shirt hem.

"And Hell, you seemed as mad at me for being the perfect soldier as you were at Dad. What about that screaming match indicated you had any desire for me to stop you." He voice was shaking slightly from an effort to remain calm.

Sam hazarded a glance at him from behind his bangs. "I was terrified, Dean. You shattered your leg coming between me and danger. You always get hurt because of me. I was afraid you'd get yourself killed protecting me. And you know, I still am! But I'm more afraid you'll get yourself killed cause no one would know you got snatched by a Wendigo while hunting. You _know _how many hunters have vanished without a trace. I don't hate you or want you gone, I want you safe!" His voice was hitching, eyes brimming with tears, and his tone was full of anger by the time his stuttered to a stop.

An abrupt punch to the arm snapped him out of his thoughts. "Dude. Seriously you're such a girl. It's not your job to keep me safe–"

"No! Supposedly it's Dad's and he's doing a bang-up job obviously." Sam shot back angrily. Dean was such a martyr some times and he couldn't fathom why.

"Don't get started, Sam." Dean suddenly looked exhausted again. "I can't play the peace keeper right now." He rubbed at his face, choking back a groan of pain when the action pulled at scabs and burns. Sam had the good sense to back down at that. It wasn't the right time to show Dean Dad's numerous faults – especially not while their father was still missing.

"I'm sorry. It's just – you basically raised me, you're the most valuable thing in my entire life and I can't lose you. I thought I could escape the possibility of you dying by turning my head, plugging my ears, and singing 'ring-a-round-the-rosy' badly off-key – but Dean, I'm still terrified!"

Green eyes narrowed, searching his face for answers, but whether or not he found them, Dean didn't let on.

However, with a slight, aborted shrug he did agree to go back to California to recover.

Jess followed in the CRV. She wasn't very happy with the idea, but as Sam kindly reminded her, they needed their car and there was no way Dean would agree to leaving his Baby behind. So Sam drove the Impala. Dean was quiet most of the drive, simply relaxing to the "awful music" Sam secretly loved. It was a reminder of everything good in his life. The music was Dean, the car was Dean. He felt so at home it surprised him. The only odd thing was that it was him in the driver seat and Dean as a passenger.

They reached Jess's mother's home just past 3 am the next morning and quietly let themselves in the guest room door. That's when he suddenly remembered that there was only one king bed in the room.

"Jess." He hissed softly still trying not to wake her mom or any of her younger siblings. "One bed."

"It'll be fine. We're all too tired to care anyway." She replied. She was not in a good mood having driven the past seventeen hours in an empty car. But just seeing Dean blinking like an owl in the front seat of the Impala was melting her frostiness.

"No way I'm sharing a bed with my brother." He grumbled sharply. "I haven't had to do that in over eight years."

"Pansy." She snapped back as she rounded the car and dropped into a crouch by Dean. "Hey sleeping beauty, ready to get horizontal?"

The look he shot her direction was answer enough as he levered himself out of the car with no help. Sam slipped his arm around Dean's back, ignoring the death glare he received, and hooked his fingers through Dean's belt to steer him to the door.

Sam dumped his brother on the bed and shoved him towards the far edge. "Fingers and hands to yourself." He snapped.

"'uch a gir' 'amantha." He mumbled with little heat.

None of them bothered to do more than kick off their shoes before collapsing into sleep with Sam oh so subtly between Dean and his girl-friend, but Sam did find the time to mention finding an apartment the next day and using the insurance to refurnish it. Something about totally not doing this again.

Jess for her part giggled and crashed.

Surprisingly she was the first one awake, startled by her phone in her pocket. She sat up groggily, the call going to voice mail before she could figure out what was buzzing her butt. But the ungodly wake up time had one benefit. The brother's were still completely out of it. Sam's face was jammed into Dean's shoulder and he was drooling. Such a puppy.

She couldn't help but snap a picture and this time Dean didn't stop her. Funny they had come full circle. The first time she had ever met the older had been under a similar situation.

Dean for his part, was facing the younger, with his bent knee pressed against Sam's thigh. She swore right then she would give anything if she ever got the opportunity to see what they had been like as kids. Personal boundaries, so carefully protected when awake, were nonexistent when they were asleep and she had an idea that they had once been nonexistent all the time as kids. It seemed there was a lot more than just Sam walking out for college that had come between the brothers in the past eight years, judging from Sam's previous comment about beds.

It was so cute she was just about to snap another picture when Dean's eyes flickered open and he scowled at her. "Don't you dare." He literally growled. With a slight grunt, he shoved Sam away. The younger simply flopped fish-like and continued right on sleeping.

"Why are you up?" Dean asked rubbing disgustedly at the offending drool spot on his sleeve.

"Phone rang, I think." She replied quickly flipping to her messages. "Yeah. It's my mom. I guess she's wondering about the extra car outside."

"Oh." He eased himself up until he was resting against the headboard and eyed her critically. "Are you okay? Six days ago you were in the hospital with a gashed stomach."

"It wasn't bad. Yeah the stitches sting, but the gash wasn't that deep. I'm okay." She replied. "Pain pills are a medical miracle and apparently mysterious gashes made by demons that are more supernatural in nature then normal, heal unbelievably quickly. I'm almost completely okay.

He rolled his eyes but smiled gratefully all the same. "I wasn't very smart going hunting without full body motion." He admitted carefully poking at the re-bandaged burns on his upper arms.

"No. not really." She replied cheerfully. Their conversation was still quiet so as not to wake Sam, but she couldn't help but feel lighter already. This is what she missed, talking to Dean. Even if it was over the phone, he hadn't called her back in a very long while. "Have you been ignoring me?"

At her question he averted he gaze. It took him a little while to reply. "I wanted to call, I really did. But after how close I came to screwing up your lives I just couldn't.

"Dean!" she carefully leaned over Sam and slapped him gently on the back of the head. "You ass. How many times do I have to tell you, you have never screwed up our lives. You being gone makes it hard for both of us." She could tell he didn't believe her, but she also knew it would take time to teach him his worth. He had lived his lifetime not knowing his own value, if it took twenty-six more years to teach it to him, she and Sam would.

Sam woke abruptly at some point in their conversation and was momentarily taken aback at their familiarity before they realized he was awake.

"Morning sleepy head. It's time to find a new apartment." She teased poking at him. In retaliation he grabbed her around the waist and flipped her onto her back to tickle her back.

"Yuck!" Dean interrupted with a moan of disgust making them laugh. "At least let me get off the bed first…"

Sam and Jess swatted at the back of his head at the same time before flopping beside him and looking up with twin beaming smiles.

"You're both gross." He growl-laughed at them. Something about their dopy faces made him uncomfortably happy.

"Yes we are." Sam laughed before poking at him.

"What is this? A slumber party." Dean snarled through his amusement swatting his brother's errant hand.

"Considering last night. Yep."

"You drool you know."

"Do not."

"Yeah you do, see, you drooled on me."

"Whatever."

"Boys rule, girls drool. So I get to braid your hair now?"

"Only if I can do your make-up."

"This face is gorgeous, no cosmetics needed. You'll ruin my complexion."

"Riiight, the burnt look is all the rage."

"I call it the smolder." Dean retorted huskily, screwing up his face in a mockery of his usual sexy look.

"You're stupid." Sam laughed unable to think of a retort fast enough.

"Your hair is stupid." Dean didn't miss a beat.

Their banter was making Jess laugh. So she left them to it and left, still chuckling, in search of food.

SPN

* * *

**AN: Did you like my AU of Wendigo?** **If you liked it, leave a note.**

**PS: the deal with the fire in the cave, yeah, I have no idea if that would actually work, but it sounded pretty cool. **

**I'm still getting a feel for the rhythm of my story again, and the voices of the characters. It's weird writing how Dean reacts to Jess with Sam is around. He's so gentle with her, and still has to keep up his tough guy routine around his brother. Sam's brother was easier to write because of that.**

**Thanks. And I've still got more written so I'll be posting again soon.  
**

**(PS: Props to anyone who has figured out the chapter titles origins. :)**

**R&amp;R**

**~Liana**


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